


Asynchronous

by bibliosoph



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Mostly Fluff, NO ANGST LIKE YOU'VE SEEN FROM ME, No hospitals, alex is low key a diva, alex is oblivious, can i even do real fluff, henry is good at words, henry is in love with alex the whole time, hopefully, richards is an asshole, what are tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:35:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 32,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23022583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bibliosoph/pseuds/bibliosoph
Summary: Alex is the star of the new television seriesThe Waterloo Letters. Alex is excited for his big break, but there's only one problem: the writer, Henry Fox, hates his guts.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz & June Claremont-Diaz, Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor & Percy "Pez" Okonjo
Comments: 104
Kudos: 286





	1. Quiet on Set

It’s Alex’s first day on set and he’s extremely nervous. He knows, rationally, that he has every right to be here––he did audition, after all. He knows that he’s talented in his own right, but he also knows that this project is something else entirely. He’s used to playing small, recurring roles on sit-coms and, on occasion, a minor character on a drama. This show, though, _The Waterloo Letters_ , is something else. It deals with real issues in a meaningful way. This will be the first time that Alex gets to play who he really is: a bisexual Latino. The writing is heavy but amazing and he feels so scared that he’ll somehow fuck this up. It doesn’t even help that Rafael Luna, who he’s known since he was young, is producing it. Even with Raf there, this will still be a nightmare. His agent, Richards, has been yapping his ear off about how important it is for him to not fuck this up. Richards says that if he hears even one rumor about Alex behaving anything less than charming, he’ll stop representing him. So, needless to say, there’s a _lot_ riding on this.

It takes about an hour for the hair and makeup people to have his way with him, then he’s standing on set and waiting for the director to call action on the first scene of the day. Alex can’t wait until lunch when he can find the writer and ask him about what made him come up with this idea. He’s in awe of how this guy, Henry Fox, writes. The way his brain works is truly fascinating and Alex can’t wait to meet him. He has, literally, hundreds of questions for him. He wants to make sure that Henry is appreciated fully since writers are the true masterminds behind these things. Alex may be the one on screen, but Henry is the puppet master of all of this. Alex knows that he was sitting in for his audition, though he doesn’t know which guy he was, so he knows that Henry probably had something to do with him getting the part. He wants to thank him for that, too.

“Action!” the director, Zahra, calls. Alex tries to quell his nerves and lets the word of the script bubble and rise up in his stomach. This is always what he’s liked about acting: its ability to turn his brain off. When he’s on stage or on set, he doesn’t have to think. He doesn’t even have to be Alex anymore––just whatever character he’s supposed to be that day.

It helps that June is doing this scene with him. They come as a set for any sort of sibling acting. They’re so used to acting together that it doesn’t even feel like acting anymore. Just normal. Second-nature. It’s so easy in fact that Alex nearly jumps out of his skin when a voice from behind the camera yells “cut.” A voice that, he realizes, does not belong to Zahra.

He squints but can’t see the person because the lights are very blinding. Thankfully, though, the person steps onto the set a bit so Alex can see who they are. It’s a man, who looks to be around his age, with sandy blond hair and blue eyes. His cheeks are a bit flushed and he’s glaring fucking daggers at Alex.

“Sorry, why did we cut?” Alex asks him. He doesn’t know who this person thinks he is. Shouldn’t Zarah be telling him off for interrupting a take?

“Because you said the line wrong,” the guy says in a deep, British accent.

Alex looks around, totally confused, then back at this guy. “No I didn’t,” he argues. He’s pretty sure he said it right. He’s been drilling lines with Nora since he got the script. This is also one of the less emotional scenes, so he knows that he’s got it down cold. If it were the scene where his character was coming out to his sister, he might have a problem. Emotional scenes tend to make him fumble with his words a bit. But this shit? This little filler scene where his character and his sister are joking around in the kitchen? He knows this.

“Yes,” the British guy argues, crossing his arms, “you did.”

Alex rolls his eyes at him. “I’m sorry, who the fuck are you, anyway? Unless you’re the director or producer––“

“I’m Henry,” the guy says. Alex feels his blood go cold. He supposes that it’s possible that there are multiple Henrys on set. And, surely, the writer isn’t British. Wouldn’t he have known if the writer was British? “The _writer_.”

Right then. So, basically, Alex is mega fucked. If it were any other lippy member of the crew, Alex would be fine. He’s the star: he’s allowed to have a sassy personality. But calling out the fucking _writer_? Telling the writer that he’s wrong about his own fucking script? Jesus fucking Christ, Alex has really done it now. He just hopes that Henry has a good sense of humor and doesn’t make this a huge deal. If it becomes a huge deal, he’ll lose Richards. And Richards knows _everyone_ in Hollywood. If he quits on Alex, Alex knows that Richards will make sure that no one ever wants to represent him ever again.

“Oh,” Alex manages, his face red. “I––“

“Can you do it right, do you think? Or shall I have someone hold up a cue card for you?”

So, as it turns out, Henry does _not_ have a sense of humor. He’s just a dick. Alex is feeling a hell of a lot less awe-struck and inspired by him, now. He grits his teeth. “I’ve got it,” he says through a clenched jaw.

Henry looks at him dubiously. Alex wants to punch that look right off of his pretty, symmetrical face.

“Let’s just take it from the top, okay?” Alex suggests, looking at Zahra. Zahra looks to Henry for his approval. Henry shrugs like he thinks running the scene again will be totally useless, like Alex is just, like, permanently incompetent. If there’s one rule when it comes to Alex, it’s to never underestimate him. If Henry thinks that Alex is just a joke, Alex will fight tooth and nail to prove otherwise. He’ll sacrifice his sleep to make sure he has ever line, every fucking word, committed to memory. He’ll show this little British writer.

When they break for lunch, Alex decides to go up to Henry. He isn’t really sure why he does it––he knows that it’s a terrible idea––but he just can’t help himself. June tries her hardest to distract and deter him, but Alex is a man on a mission. As soon as he sees Henry emerge from whatever room he was in––some sort of hellscape, Alex imagines––he’s charging up to him. He doesn’t care that he interrupts the conversation that Henry’s having with Pez, another actor on the show (his character’s best friend). All he cares about is getting to Henry.

“You don’t have to be here, you know,” Alex tells him.

Henry turns to look at him, his face stone-like and emotionless. “What?”

Alex hates how that sounds in his stupid British accent. “Like, you’re just the writer. Writers don’t have to be on set. We’ve got script-supervisors and dialogue coaches for a reason.”

Henry raises an eyebrow at him. “Yes, well, we all thought it best that I stay on set. Obviously my help was much appreciated considering how you managed to butcher at least five of your lines.”

Alex can’t help but growl at him a bit. “You’re just the writer,” Alex tells him. “Everyone knows that the script is just, like, a jumping-off point.”

Henry chuckles at him like this is all extremely pathetic and entertaining. “And everyone knows that actors are replaceable,” Henry says.

Alex has to plant his feet into the ground to keep himself from lunging at him. “If I’m so untalented and replaceable, then why’d you pick me? Huh?”

Henry looks at him for a moment like he can’t decide if Alex is telling a joke or something. “Who says I picked you?”

Alex furrows his brow. “You were at the audition,” he accuses.

“And?” Henry asks, folding his arms and raising a goddamn perfectly manicured eyebrow. Alex kind of wants to tear it off of his face. See how high and mighty he is with one fucking eyebrow.

“So you saw my audition, liked it, and chose me.”

Henry sighs. “Actually,” he says, sounding bored, “I didn’t. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to have a chat with the director.”

And, just like that, he’s gone.

And Alex is feeling more unhinged than ever. He’ll get Henry to like him. To appreciate him. Alex is talented, he knows it, but now he just has to prove it.


	2. Prove Him Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this is so terrible

He’s waiting for a call from Richards. It’s been two days since his initial outburst––surely Richards would have called to fire him by now, right? Maybe Henry didn’t make a big deal about it or maybe Raf told him to drop it. Whatever the reason, Alex is extremely grateful. As a thank-you, he’s been trying his hardest not to lose his shit at Henry whenever he stops the scene to give Alex shit. He never stops the scene to give anyone else shit, even when June breaks character ad starts laughing, but he’s trying not to read too much into it. If Henry wants to hate him, for whatever reason, there’s really nothing Alex can do to stop it.

Ha.

He’s going to make Henry like him. He’s going to make Henry see that he’s the best guy for this part––that he can do the words justice. He’s got a whole plan figured out now. June’s tried to talk him out of it, but there’s no stopping Alex Claremont-Diaz when he sets his mind to something. And, in this case, that something is making Henry Fox fall to his fucking knees when Alex does the coming-out scene with June.

He knocks on the door to Henry’s private room. He’s not really sure why Henry gets a fucking dressing room, but whatever. What’s he dressing up for in there? Does he have people come by and do his hair and makeup before he goes to sit behind the camera and yell at Alex? That would explain why he looks so fucking attractive all the time, Alex supposes.

Henry opens the door and glares at him, leaving the door only partly ajar. “What do you want?”

“Can I come in?” Alex asks, trying to look past Henry to see what the inside of this room looks like. He’s expecting posters of himself taped on top of dart boards with knives in it or something. A voodoo doll. Something.

“Why? So you can yell at me again?”

Alex rolls his eyes. He’s just now realizing that he’s quite a bit shorter than Henry. “I haven’t yelled at you in, like, two days.”

“Why then?”

“I wanted to talk to you about the coming-out scene,” Alex says. “I want to make sure I get it right, you know? It’s powerful stuff and I’m stressed about it. I was hoping you’d talk me through what you’re looking for.”

Henry continues to glare at him for a moment, looking at his whole body up and down, before he sighs and opens the door for Alex to come in. Henry instantly turns away and sits himself down on a grey sofa in the corner, watching Alex expectantly. Alex steps into the space and closes the door behind him, suddenly feeling very nervous. Henry is looking at him like he’s bored and Alex is wasting his time, which makes Alex even more determined to render Henry speechless. He’ll get some emotion out of Henry, even if he dies trying.

“Do you want me to read for June’s part?” Henry asks, holding his hand out for the script. Alex knows what this is––what Henry’s doing. This is a test to see if Alex knows his lines.

Alex hands him the script and put his best, super-extra fake smile on. “That’d be great,” he says, “thanks!”

It’s obvious that Henry isn’t expecting that response because his blue eyes widen as he takes the script from Alex’s hands, very careful to grab it by the edges furthest from Alex like he’s carrying some kind of disease that Henry might catch if their hands brush. Alex chews his lip instead of saying anything snarky about it, even though he desperately wants to.

“Okay, where do you want to take it from?”

Alex furrows his eyebrows. “I thought we could talk about it before––“

“No, no,” Henry insists. “Talking won’t be necessary. You can show me what you’ve managed and I’ll tell you what you’re doing wrong.”

Alex puts his hands on his hips. “Okay, but what if I’m doing something right?”

Henry gives him a deep, humored chuckle for that. “I’m sure that won’t happen.”

Instead of punching him in the face, Alex clears his throat and takes it from his first line. By the time he gets to the big speech about his sexuality, he’s nearly on the verge of tears. He doesn’t know if he’s supposed to cry here, but he can’t help but let his voice wobble throughout his big monologue. Having come out to his parents and friends already, Alex lets the emotions he felt then guide him through the scene. He’s not out publicly because he can’t even imagine the hell he’d get from Richards about it, so this feels kind of his chance to tell the whole world who he really is. His eyes are glossed over with tears and he wipes at his runny nose when he finishes, waiting for Henry to read for June’s part. He doesn’t want to break character, but Henry isn’t going on with his next line. Alex lets the emotions from the scene hang heavy in the air for a second before he repeats his last line, just to make Henry remember that he’s supposed to say something here. Henry coughs awkwardly and reads June’s line, ending the scene.

“So?”

Henry looks up at him. Since Henry’s sitting, Alex has the height advantage. He likes it.

“The scene, man,” Alex clarifies.

“I––did you mean to cry?”

Alex shakes his head while letting out a laugh. “Honestly, no. I mean, I know it’s emotional, but I wasn’t planning on it. Was it good? Or should I––“

“No,” Henry protests, his voice softer than Alex has ever heard it, “keep it in. I didn’t imagine it, but I like it. How did you do it?”

Henry seems genuinely impressed which makes Alex pretty fucking proud of himself. “I mean, I was just trying to remember what it felt like when…” he lets his voice trail off, not sure if he should tell Henry this. He’s not ashamed and it’s not like Henry is likely to go to a paper or something about it, but still. Up until now, he and Henry have been everything but nice to each other. Why should he trust him to get it? To understand?

“When what?” Henry asks. He sighs. “Sorry. I don’t mean to pry, and you obviously have every right to tell me to bugger off––“

“I’m bi,” Alex tells him. “I’m not, like, out out, but my family and friends know. And you now, I guess.”

Henry smiles up at him. It seems like a genuine smile and it does something funny to Alex’s insides. “Thats––I didn’t know that.”

Alex shrugs and takes a seat in the chair by the desk. It’s a desk that he has in his own room, one usually used for hair and makeup stuff, but Henry’s got books and journals on it. “I’m not ashamed or anything, but it’s––that’s kind of why I really wanted to do this project. It’s about a guy like me. Even if I can’t tell the world who I really am, at least I can show them who I want to be.”

“You want an epic love story?” Henry asks, his voice innocent and curious.

Alex hasn’t seen this side to him before, but he likes it. “I mean, who doesn’t? Like, theoretically, it’d be nice. I don’t know how I’d actually find time for someone, though. Or who I’d even date at this point. I feel like everyone I meet is just conceited and fake.”

“Keep the crying in,” Henry says, leaning forward to hand Alex the script.

Alex opens his mouth to say something but Henry cuts him off.

“I’m not hired help,” he says. His voice has gone sharp and cold again. “Don’t come to me for scene advice again, okay? If you need help, speak to Zahra.”

“But you––“

Henry stands and moves towards the door. He opens it and looks back at Alex. “Are, as you so kindly said, just the writer.”

Alex gets up and leaves without another word. He glides back over to where June and Pez are waiting while the love interest, played by Liam, finishes up his scene with his character’s best friend. June notices his mood and elbows him playfully.

“What’s up?” she asks. “Did Henry not help you?”  
Alex shrugs. Did Henry help him? For a moment there, he thought he was really getting somewhere with him. But then, of course, Henry closed himself off again. “We did the scene and started talking and then he just kind of threw me out? June, I’m actually trying to be nice to him. Why is he such a dick?”

June shrugs. “I don’t know, Alex. You weren’t exactly nice to him on the first day.”

Alex groans, throwing his head back for dramatic effect. “Yeah, but now I’m being nice. I’m being so fucking nice, Bug. It’s killing me. Honestly.”

“Some people just aren’t going to like you,” she tells him like that will make him feel any better. Alex knows that he’s a lot, but he also knows that he’s a shit ton of fun. He’ll make Henry see that––he has to make Henry see that.

“He’s reserved,” Pez tells him.

Alex totally forgot that Pez was even over here. “What?”

“Look,” Pez says in his British accent, “I’m his best mate. I know him. And I know that he’s a great person and a wonderful friend, but he just doesn’t like new people. Or LA people in general.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “I’m not like everyone else here. I literally told him that this city is full of fake people, but he has to know that I’m not one of them. I mean––“ he turns to June, “I came out to him! I was real and vulnerable––“

“Hang on, you came out to him?” Pez asks.

“Yeah. I’m bi, okay?” Alex figures he might as well tell his sort of friends on set about it.

“And he told you to leave?”

“Yeah, Pez. I came out to him, he asked about romance or something––“

June groans. “Alex, did you go on your little tangent about how there are no good people in LA?”

“Uh, maybe?”

“You’re such an idiot. He probably thought you were self-absorbed.”

Well, that does make sense. Or, at least, more sense than the other half-put together theories Alex has tried to come up with. Not only does Alex have to prove that he’s right for the role, but now he also has to prove that he’s not conceited. Fucking hell, this is more than he signed up for. It’s a good thing that Alex loves a challenge.


	3. The Break Room

Alex is up bright and early for another full day on set. He has a plan and he’s excited to put it into action. He knows that June would probably try to talk him out of this one, so he makes a point of not telling her about it. While Amy and Cash do his makeup, he holds senseless conversation with them while he thinks about what he’ll say to Henry when he sees him next. He supposes it’s entirely possible that he’s a little too obsessed with what Henry thinks of him, but he tries not to think about it. All he needs to focus on is how he’ll get Henry to see that he’s both a talented actor and a good person. He’s going to make Henry like him. He’s sure of it.

Since Alex’s hair and makeup takes less time than the girls’, he’s got some free time before he’s needed on set. The catering team has set up a nice spread in the big break room so Alex helps himself to some scrambled eggs and bacon while he sits at a table and reads over his script. He’ll be doing the coming-out scene today so he’s nervous about making sure he knows the lines. It’s the scene he’s practiced most, but it’s also the scene that makes him feel like he’s not a great actor. He does it differently each time and he doesn’t know which of the ways is the best one. He knows that he wants to cry because Henry seemed to like that part, but there are certain lines that have him nervous about things like inflection and emphasis. He also wants to make sure that he’s going at the right speed––even though he doesn’t know what the right speed is. It’s a lot of pressure and a lot of moving parts, but he’s feeling hopeful. It helps knowing that June will be on set with him for it, just in case he loses himself or loses sight of his character. Acting with June by his side is always a nice relief, especially for particularly heated or emotional scenes. Then, after they wrap up, she’ll call up Nora and the three of them will do something stupid and light-hearted together to take the edge off.

The door to the break room opens. Alex looks up on instinct, hoping to see Henry, but sees Raf instead. “Hey, Raf,” Alex says.

Raf turns, clearly a little startled to see someone else in here, and smiles at him. “Oh, hey, Alex. Didn’t know anyone else was in here.”

“Sorry, did you want some alone time with the breakfast spread?”

Raf rolls his eyes and starts loading up a plate of various meats, eggs, and pastries. “You’re such a shit.”

Alex laughs. This is good. Comfortable. He’s known Raf since he was young, so he’s always a good, familiar face. Alex is really jealous of the pastries he’s got on his plate, though. Whenever he’s in the middle of shooting, he tries to eat better than he normally would to keep a good physique. Since he knows he’ll be eating ice cream tonight, he doesn’t let himself go near anything like pastries.

“Wanna sit? We’ve got some time before we’re needed on set,” Alex says.

Raf thinks about it for a moment before sitting across from Alex at the little, plastic table. “You nervous for the coming-out scene?” he asks, gesturing to Alex’s script which is opened to that scene.

Alex sighs and closes the script, allowing himself a break from over-thinking it. “Yeah. I need to show Henry that I belong here.”

“Why do you care what that guy thinks?”

Alex shrugs. “He’s the writer, you know? And this story is important. I want to make sure I do it right.” He takes a bite of egg. Not the best he’s had, but certainly not the worst, especially for these kinds of catered meals.

“You’ve been doing well so far,” Raf tells him. “Everyone’s been really impressed, actually.”

“That makes it sound like y’all are _surprised_ I’m doing well,” Alex accuses with a smirk.

Raf rolls his eyes. “I’m just saying that you don’t have to prove yourself, okay, kid? You’re doing just fine. Plus, you’ve got great chemistry with Liam.”

“Doesn’t hurt that I’ve known him for a while,” Alex laughs. Raf is one of the people that knows Alex is bi. He remembers when he was first trying to figure himself out and he talked to Raf about it. He had been hooking up with Liam at the time––who he met on set for a film they were both in––and he had no idea what it meant for him and his identity. Raf helped him understand himself better. He’ll always be thankful for him.

“I’m sure. But seriously,” Raf says. “You doing okay?”

Alex furrows his eyebrows, caught totally off-guard. “What do you mean?”

“Richards,” Raf says like that clarifies things. “He’s still your agent, right?”

Alex nods. “Why?”

“I’m just… _surprised_ he let you do this show. He’s not…you’re safe, right?”

Alex has no idea what he means by that. “Uh, yeah. I mean, there’s always the threat that he’ll drop me if I have some kind of issue, but that’s regular stuff. I’m a handful.”

Raf laughs but Alex notices that it’s not real. He wants to ask why Raf is so concerned about him and Richards, but then the door swings open and a tired-looking Henry appears. Raf gives him a knowing look and, with a bite of croissant in his mouth, leaves the room. Henry very obviously watches Raf leave, his eyes following Raf out the door before turning to Alex with a raised eyebrow.

“Good morning,” Alex says, ignoring Henry’s look.

Henry sighs and moves over to the small kitchen area––which is stocked with snacks and such––and produces a teal kettle from one of the cabinets. “Morning.” Alex watches as Henry fills it with water and sets it on the stove, waiting for it to boil. He looks unsure of what to do with himself while he waits.

“Wanna sit?” Alex asks, gesturing to the now-empty seat across from him.

Henry thinks about it for a moment before taking Alex up on the offer.

Now they’re in an annoying silence that Alex feels like he has to fill. “So,” he says, tearing off a piece of bacon, “how are you?” He pops the piece of bacon into his mouth while he waits for Henry to respond.

“What?”

Alex rolls his eyes. Either Henry’s too out of it to have heard what he said or he’s just intentionally being a paranoid dick. “How are you?” Alex repeats. “It’s a normal question, you know? People ask it when they want to––“

“Yes, I’m aware,” Henry snaps. He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. “Sorry. I’m a bit knackered.”

“Did you just _apologize_ to me?” Alex asks with a gasp. “I mean…what can I even say? I’d like to thank The Academy––“

“Do shut up,” Henry begs. There’s a slight smile on his face, though. Alex can’t help but feel a bit proud. “You’re insufferable at best, and certainly this early in the morning.”

Alex leans back in his chair. “Didn’t sleep well or something?”

“Or something.”

“Wow. You really hate me, huh?”

Henry raises a tired eyebrow at him. “What makes you say that?”

“It’s kind of obvious,” Alex tells him. “I’m just trying to be nice and ask how you’re doing and you’re being a total buzzkill.”

“Oh, were you being serious?”

“What? Of course. Honestly, I’ve kind of wanted to get to know you for a while.”

Henry opens his mouth but the kettle whistles, signaling that his water’s ready. Wordlessly, Henry gets up and pours the hot water into a mug. He puts a tea bag, milk, and sugar in the mug and stirs it around a bit. “I’ll see you on set,” he says.

Before Alex even has the chance to say anything, the door is closing behind Henry’s swift exit. Alex groans and hangs his head in defeat. He wishes Henry would tell him what he’s doing wrong. He’s seen Henry joke around with Pez and, occasionally, Nora, so it has to be something that Alex is doing. He doesn’t understand where he went wrong, though. He’s been nothing but nice since the first day and he thought that they were making progress when Henry agreed to help him with the coming-out scene, but now he feels like there’s just no way around this.

He knows, logically, that not everyone will like him. A lot of people really don’t like him, in fact. Liam didn’t talk to him for, like, a whole year after everything that went down between them. But now he and Liam are friends and they joke about how oblivious and stupid Alex was back then. If he can get over the awkwardness with Liam, surely he should be able to make Henry talk to him, too. He’s always been good at pestering people until they stop ignoring him, but it doesn’t seem to be working with Henry. Maybe Henry just will never like him. Maybe Henry decided at the audition that Alex was annoying and that there was no way he would change his mind. But what Henry doesn’t know is that Alex never gives up. He knows himself too well to even imagine that possibility.

He’s in the middle of eating his cold eggs and hatching a new plan when his phone rings. He fishes it out of his pocket and sees that it’s Richards calling him. Alex feels his blood go cold. Maybe Henry left so abruptly so he could complain to Zahra about him. God, this call could be the end of Alex’s whole career.

With shaking hands, he answers the phone and holds it up to his ear. “Hey,” he says.

“You’re not causing any problems over there, are you?”

Alex swallows a lump in throat and tries to keep his voice steady. “Uh, no. Why?”

“Good. I’ve heard that you’ve been awfully hung up on the writer. Harold Forks.”

“Henry Fox,” Alex corrects automatically. He instantly hates himself for it.

“Whatever. I just want to make sure that you’re keeping your eye on the big picture here, Alex. We’ve talked about this. You’re there to get some name recognition, not to get emotionally invested in the gay love story or the drama of it all. The more distance you put between yourself and these… _queer_ folks, the better.”

Alex clenches his jaw at Richards’ words, but he doesn’t say anything. How could he say anything? What would he even say? It’s not like he can tell Richards that he’s bi or anything––Richards would drop him and have him black-listed before he could even finish his sentence. He knows that Richards is old-fashioned and too conservative, but Alex _needs_ him. Without Richards and his connections, Alex would just be another nobody performing in terrible improv groups and local Shakespeare productions. Without Richards, Alex would be _nothing_. So, if he just has to grit his teeth and take it when Richards says this kind of crap to him, he’ll do it. Gladly. It’s a small price to pay for all of his dreams to come true.

“I know,” Alex tells him. “He’s a good writer. I thought it would be best to get on his good side for when future projects come up.”

Richards laughs on the other end of the call. Alex can picture him lounging in his pool, probably sipping whiskey or something, and wondering what he did in a past life to get stuck with Alex as a client.

“He’s not that good. I doubt this show will get renewed for a second season, let alone that he’ll get the chance to write again.”

Alex clenches his fist by his side––he can’t help it. “Then why am I doing this, Richards? What’s the point?”

“The point _is_ ,” Richards snaps, “that you’re in an all-star cast. Even the production team is made up of A-listers. It’s a Netflix original series which means that people will watch it. It’ll get you name recognition. Which is something you desperately need, by the way. Is that enough or do you need me to explain how the industry works?”

“I’ve got it,” Alex says, trying not to let his anger and frustration show. “Look, I have to go. We’re gonna start soon.”

Richards doesn’t even say anything else––he just hangs up.

Alex sighs and slams his fist down on the table in anger before taking a deep breath, sliding his phone into his pocket, and getting to work.


	4. Chads and Coffees

He gives it a full day before he tries anything else. If Henry really is angry with him for some reason, he figures that a cool-down period will do them both some good. He supposes that Henry can’t be too angry with him based on the smile he gave him after they wrapped the coming-out scene, but still. Alex wants this to work, and in order for it to work, Henry needs to be in a good mood. Alex has already prepared everything else––the list of questions, the venue, his outfit––so all he needs is for Henry to actually agree to go with him. Unfortunately, his schedule is pretty packed for the morning. He’s not shooting in the afternoon, but that means that his morning is completely filled with a big scene. It takes about an hour for the lighting to get set up, then another thirty minutes for Zahra to walk them through everything important blocking-wise. It takes them a few takes to get in the groove, and then it takes them about two hours of shooting to get all the footage they need. By the time Zahra calls a break for lunch, Alex is exhausted. Not so exhausted, of course, that he can’t find Henry and put the wheels in motion. 

Henry’s making a mad dash for his dressing room when Alex grabs his wrist.

“Hey,” he says, “you busy?”

Henry looks down at Alex’s hand, which is still around his arm, and then back up at Alex. Alex lets go immediately, hoping that the gesture didn’t just blow any chance he had.

“You mean besides having to watch you butcher my words? No. Why?”

Alex fights the urge to roll his eyes. He smiles instead. “Wanna get some coffee? Or tea, I guess?”

“Aren’t you needed on set soon?”

“Nah, I’m done for the day. And, since I won’t be acting, you don’t have anyone to yell at. If you come to get coffee with me, you can criticize my acting all you want.” Alex hopes that the offer is tempting enough for Henry to accept.

“Really? All I want?”

Alex notes the slight smile on his face and grins triumphantly. “Yeah. You in?”

Henry sighs. “I suppose. Let me grab my wallet––“

“No,” Alex insists. “It’s on me. You know, since I’m dragging you with me.”

“Okay, if you insist.”

Alex grins at him and gestures back towards the exit. “I do.” He starts walking and Henry falls into step with him. Alex pretends not to notice the strange looks June and Pez shoot their way, focusing instead on Henry’s presence beside him. It’s strangely comforting to have him so close––like Alex’s mind shuts off and focuses only on Henry. He notices that Henry pulls out his phone, shoots a text to someone, and slides it back in his pocket. Alex is a bit worried that Henry might be texting Pez to express his concerns about hanging out with Alex, but Alex brushes the thought aside. If Henry really hated him, he wouldn’t have agreed to come, right? As they walk to the coffee shop, with Alex small-talk, he doesn’t think about the pressure he’s under or Richards or anything else. The only thing that fills his mind is Henry.

When they get to the coffee shop, Alex holds the door open for him. Henry nods at him appreciatively and enters. When they get up to the counter, Henry opens his mouth to order, but Alex holds up a hand to stop him.

“Hi,” he says, looking at the guy’s name tag, “ _Chad_. Can we get an Earl Grey with a splash of milk and half a sugar and a black iced coffee with two shots of espresso?”

Chad smiles at him and rings him up. “Is that for here or to go?”

“For here?” Alex asks, looking at Henry. Henry shrugs. “Yeah, for here. Thanks.”

He leads Henry over to an empty table by the window and pulls a chair out for him.

Henry looks weirdly suspicious. “What’s this all about?”

“What?” Alex asks, sitting down in the chair across from him.

“All of the pleasantries,” he clarifies. "Should I be scared?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m being really nice so you don’t expect it when I kill you later.”

Henry stares at him, his eyes wide.

“Dude, I’m kidding. Relax.”

“Sorry. You can never be too sure with Americans, you know.”

Alex rolls his eyes, playfully, and with a smile still on his face. “Not _all_ Americans,” he says.

Chad comes over with their drinks and sets them down on the table. Alex flashes him a smile, trying to show Henry that he’s a people-person. He’s totally capable of smiling and being nice to everyone, even super basic douche-bag looking types like Chad. Henry doesn’t seem to appreciate Alex’s kindness, though. In fact, Alex sees Henry glare at him like him smiling at this Chad guy is extremely unnerving and offensive. Alex tries not to read into it, though. He has a plan and, as soon as Chad walks off, Alex lets it begin.

He pulls out his phone, opens his notes app, and clears his throat. “Where did you live before here?”

Henry raises an eyebrow at him. “Sorry, is this some kind of interview?”

Alex chuckles at him. “No, don’t worry. I just made a list of things I wanted to know about you. I won’t, like, record your answers or anything.”  
Henry looks dubious but also a little intrigued by the idea. It looks like he’s both impressed and disgusted at Alex’s pre-written list of questions. He answers, though. “England.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “Okay, yeah, but where? I don’t know much about England, but I’m pretty sure y’all have different cities and stuff there.” He takes a sip of his coffee while he waits for Henry to respond.

“London,” he sighs.

“Okay, and when and why did you move here?”

“Getting right into it, are we?”

Alex shrugs and takes another sip of his coffee. He can already feel the caffeine wash over him.

“My father always said that I should be a writer. I suppose I could have written in England, but Hollywood is where I really wanted to be. I also wanted to be able to live on my own––you know, make my own money and provide for myself.”

“I don’t know, actually. What’s that mean?”

“My family is quite…well, rich, I suppose,” Henry sighs. “And my grandmother offered to keep me… _comfortable_.”

“That sounds like a good deal,” Alex says. “Why not take it?”

“If I accepted her financial help, I would have had to conform to the lifestyle she wanted for me. And that lifestyle was not true to who I was or what I wanted to do.”

Alex furrows his eyebrow, totally confused. “She didn’t want you to be a writer?”

“Among other things. I’m sure you understand my meaning.”

“I really don’t,” Alex insists. Which is true, actually. He has no idea what Henry means by all of this.

Henry sighs, clearly exasperated. “I’m _gay_ , Alex. Surely you know that.”

Alex’s eyes widen. The admission does something funny to his insides, but he isn’t sure why. Being in this business, he’s known a lot of other LGBTQ+ people. A majority of his friends aren’t straight. He doesn’t know why Henry not being straight makes his breath catch in his throat or his heart beat a bit quicker in his chest. He tries to brush the feeling aside. He’ll worry about that later.

“I didn’t know that,” he whispers, half to himself.

“Really? I thought it was quite obvious.”

Alex shakes his head. “Not to me, anyway. I’m kind of shit with reading people, though.”

Henry smirks at him. “I know that much,” he laughs. “Really? You had no idea? Even after reading the script for this show?”

“Is it–– _oh_ ,” Alex says in a moment of recognition. “It’s your love story, isn’t it?” He’s seeing it all differently now–– _The Waterloo Letters_ are Henry’s love story told in words. It’s the story of his first boyfriend, maybe. Or current boyfriend. Something about the thought makes Alex’s stomach turn sour.

“Sort of,” Henry agrees. “It’s more of a fantasy. I’ve never…I’ve never really been in love myself. But I like to imagine it.”

Alex doesn’t know what to say. Any words he could possibly offer wouldn’t do Henry’s truth right, here. Instead, Alex smiles at him and pulls up the next question. “What’s your favorite thing to do?”

“Shouldn’t you have to answer these questions as well?”

Alex shrugs. “I can,” he says. “If you want me to.”

“It only seems fair,” Henry smirks. “I suppose my favorite thing to do would be writ––“

“No, no,” Alex admonishes, “none of that. Something real. Something I don’t know.”

Henry thinks about it for a moment and takes a sip of his tea while he ponders this. “Er, I suppose it would have to be playing the piano, then.”

“Really? I never thought of you as a piano player. Are you any good?”

“I won’t be joining an orchestra, but I know my way around the keys. I’ve got a few songs committed to memory.” He takes another sip of his tea. “And you?”

“I like Xbox,” Alex says. He scrunches his nose in horror at his own response. “Yeah, no. That’s a shitty answer. Uh…oh! I like making lists. Does that count?”

“Lists of what?”

Alex shrugs. “Just things. What I need to do, things I want to do, things I like, why I like things. I don’t know––it’s soothing for me.”

“Do you write them down?”

“No. Never. That’d be too embarrassing.” He takes a sip of his coffee and scrolls through the list of questions on his phone until he finds one he finds interesting enough. “Okay, here’s a good one: if you could read people’s minds, who’s mind would you most want to read and why?”

They hold each other’s gaze for a moment while Henry opens his mouth to reply, but then his phone rings. Groaning, Henry reaches into his pocket and produces the phone. He looks down at the to see who’s calling, answers it, and holds it up to his ear.

Alex doesn’t know why, but he feels like this is the end of it. Whatever magic just happened between them is long gone, now.

“Yes,” Henry is telling whoever he’s talking to. “Yes, I’ll come back. Just––stop panicking, okay? Everything will be fine, I promise.” He hangs up and slips the phone back into his pocket. “Sorry,” he tells Alex, not meeting his gaze. “That was Pez. He’s…I need to go back and help him with something.”

Alex nods and quickly chugs his coffee, not wanting to waste a single drop. He may not have to work anymore today, but he still has shit to do. Liam is coming over later so they can practice their scene for tomorrow––their first kiss scene––and Alex needs to clean his apartment before Liam gets there. Liam has the tendency to jokingly prod Alex for the smallest things, so he doesn’t want to add any fuel to the fire. He’s already worried enough thinking about how awkward it’ll be for them to have to kiss.

They both stand up at the same time and make their way to the door. Alex holds it open for him again and Henry smiles softly at him. He falls into step with Henry who is doing something on his phone, seemingly oblivious that Alex is still walking with him.

“You don’t have to walk me back,” Henry says, shooting a little look his way that Alex can’t quite place.

“I know,” he says, “but I want to.”

“Why are you doing all of this?” Henry asks, still walking.

“I thought we already talked about this with the whole door opening thing?”

Henry shakes his head, his blond hair rippling a bit in the gentle breeze. “Why are you being so nice to me? What’s in it for you?”

Alex tries not to be offended. “I don’t have an ulterior motive,” he explains, “if that’s what you’re asking. I just…I dunno. I want to get to know you. I want to be your friend.”

Henry still seems skeptical. Alex wants to shake him by the shoulders and ask why he’s being so difficult––he knows for a fact that Henry can laugh and let loose and have a good time. He’s seen it on set with Pez and June. He knows that, somewhere, Henry is a normal person. There’s no reason for this to be so _challenging_. By now, with any other person, Alex would have won. They would have cracked and just accepted the fact that Alex was going to be their friend whether they liked it or not. But Henry is an enigma. So hot and cold that Alex doesn’t know how to deal with it. It almost seems like, when it’s just the two of them, Henry desperately wants to let himself enjoy it––to get lost in easy conversation––but then something snaps him back to reality. He’s so good at shutting himself off to emotion that Alex is a bit worried that there’s something a lot deeper going on here. But Alex is _trustworthy_. He’s a good guy. Henry could tell him anything and it wouldn’t scare him off.

“Why, though?”

Alex wants to slam his head into a wall. “Because!” he can’t help shouting. “I _like_ you, okay? I think you’re an amazing writer and you’re so talented and funny and smart and I just want to be around you and learn more about you. I don’t know why it’s so hard to accept that, or what I did to make you hate me, but I can’t help it. I want to know you. I want to be able to make you laugh like Pez does. I want to talk to you and listen to you and see who you are under all of the walls you have built up.”

Henry is silent for a moment. Alex thinks that he might just speed-walk away, but then Henry sticks his hand out. “Give me your phone.”

Alex raises an eyebrow. “What? Why?”

“You want to be friends, yes?”

Alex nods enthusiastically.

“Let me give you my number. I’m…it’s easier for me to talk over text.”

Alex hands him his phone and watches as Henry puts his number in. “Because you’re a writer?” he asks when Henry hands it back to him.

“Maybe.”

Alex grins at him and slides his phone back into his pocket. He nudges Henry playfully with his shoulder. “Aw, look at us,” he sing-songs, “friends!”

“Don’t make me regret this,” Henry groans.

“Oh, you definitely will,” Alex promises.


	5. How Many Times?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still alive! Sorry, everything is crazy right now. I have to move out of my dorm :(

Maybe Alex should have expected this. Just because he and Henry got a cup of coffee and texted while Alex nervously waited for Liam to come over, that doesn’t mean that things are just going to change. Henry shoots him a soft, private smile as Alex goes on set for the day, but nothing else. That’s fine, though, because Alex has a full day of shooting ahead of him. He and Liam are ready to go for their big kiss scene, having rehearsed it so much last night. It took a few tries for them to get the giggles and awkwardness out, but they got it eventually. It helped when Alex produced a bottle of whiskey and they spent an hour drinking to the stupid shit they did when they first met and hooked up.

“Hey,” Liam says in that familiar drawl. Alex turns and sees him ready to go in costume and makeup. “You ready for this?”

“I guess,” Alex sighs. It’s one thing to kiss Liam for practice in the privacy of his apartment, but another thing entirely to do it in front of cameras. Even though he’s not out, this is his first time even hinting that he might be into guys. After today, everyone on set will have seen him kiss Liam. Will everyone know? Will the viewers just assume that he’s a good actor and not that he’s bi? What if this is what makes Richards fire him––because it’s too believable? Alex is an anxious knot.

“It’ll be fine,” Liam assures him with a pat on the back. “It’s just what’s in the script, man. No need to get all freaked out about it. I know you’re not into me.”

Alex tries to laugh at that but it comes out flat. “Aren’t you worried? I mean, your boyfriend––“

“Spencer knows that I have a job to do,” Liam explains. “He’s actually on set today, just to make sure you keep your hands to yourself.” He chuckles in that comforting way that makes Alex think back to when everything happened between them. He was so stupid back then, wasn’t he? He thought that Liam’s laugh did funny things to his insides because they were just friends. Now, at least, he knows better.

“I’ll have to meet him after we wrap for the day,” Alex insists. “Y’all free for dinner? I mean, I’m going out with Nora and June, but we’d love to have you come with.”

Liam thinks about it for a moment before nodding. “Sounds like a good time. We’ll be there. Text me the details when you’ve got a moment, would ya?”

Alex nods. Liam walks off to talk to Zahra before the scene, leaving Alex alone on the set. It’s his character’s bedroom. He wishes he knew more about set design because the way they’ve set it up is truly fascinating. He doesn’t understand how people are talented enough to look at the script and just get the character like this. It took him weeks of careful studying and research to really understand his character, Francisco or “Cisco,” but the set people managed to create his character’s room flawlessly and in such a short period of time. Alex feels like he’s still learning things about his character, and looking around the bedroom helps a lot. His character is a little too obsessed with soccer––which is sort of a running joke when he realizes he’s bi––and his music taste is all over the charts. There’s a poster of Adele but also a poster of Green Day and Alex can’t help but wonder how the designers figured that one out. He hasn’t thought much about Cisco’s music tastes or anything beyond the big stuff like where he grew up, why it’s taken him so long to realize he’s bi, or why he’s afraid of forming deep connections with people. Long story short, Alex is kind of obsessed with the bedroom set.

When he and Liam do their scene, he notices, from the corner of his eye, that Henry is frowning throughout the dialogue. He wonders if he’s doing something wrong but he recalls that Henry has literally no qualms about shouting “cut” and telling him exactly what the problem is, so it can’t be that. He tries to brush it off, but as soon as he and Liam pull away from their kiss, Henry is walking away: nothing but a back fading into the distance. Alex feels his stomach go sour at the thought of somehow fucking this up without even _doing_ anything. Just last night, he and Henry texted for two hours about _Star Wars_ and the different character dynamics. Alex just wants to know what he’s doing––what’s so _wrong_ with him––to make Henry so hot and cold. If he knew what he did, he would fix it instantly because some dark cloud passes over him whenever he feels Henry grow distant. He just wants Henry where he can see him, even if that means that Henry is yelling at him about mixing up the words or about his emphasis. He wants to be back in that coffee shop, being the one who brings a smile to Henry’s beautiful, elegant face.

As soon as they’re done with the scene, and Alex has a break while Liam and June shoot one, Alex practically runs off set to try and find Henry. He gets to Henry’s dressing room in record time and knocks on the door three times, anxiously wringing his hands while he waits for Henry to let him in. The question of _if_ Henry will let him in doesn’t even cross his mind. Henry _has_ to let him in, right? After all, they’re friends now. Henry said so himself.

Just as he’s about to text Henry, the door swings open. It’s not Henry who greets him, though. It’s Pez. His scene is up next so he’s just killing time, Alex supposes. He flashes Pez a nervous smile and tries to look past him to find Henry, but Pez moves to block him. He walks forward, making Alex walk back, and shuts the door to Henry’s dressing room.

“Is Henry in there?” Alex asks him.

“Why, darling?”

Alex doesn’t really _know_ why. He just knows that he needs to see Henry––that he needs to know why he left when he and Liam kissed. Was it a bad kiss? Did it not look believable? How ironic would that be, after everything? Alex was so worried about making the kiss look too real, but maybe he didn’t make it look real _enough_. No, Zahra would have told him if it was bad. She would have yelled “cut” and demanded a retake.

“I want to see him,” Alex says, hoping that it’s enough. “He walked out during the last scene and I––”

“Alex,” Pez sighs, “he’s just not feeling well, okay?”

“Is he okay?” Alex asks, suddenly feeling very anxious about it. “Is he sick? Does he need anything? Should I––”

“He’s not really up for company right now, I’m afraid.”

Alex raises an eyebrow at him. “ _You’re_ company, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes, but I’ve also known him for ages. It’s a bit different. I’ll let you know when he’s feeling better though, okay, love?”

Alex sighs but nods because he can’t really do anything else about it. If Henry doesn’t want to see him, he can’t force himself into his dressing room or something. There’s only one door and Pez seems like he’s a pretty determined bodyguard. Alex just wishes that Henry didn’t feel like he needed a bodyguard––that he would let Alex help him, too.

Alex quickly gives up on waiting outside Henry’s door like some cheesy guy in an eighties movie. Instead, he decides to go support his co-stars while they worked. By the end of the day, Henry is still AWOL. Alex shoots him a quick text to check-in, just to make sure that everything’s okay, but he doesn’t reply. Alex tries to focus on getting through the day, then getting through dinner with Liam, Spencer, Nora, and June instead of worrying about Henry. If something’s wrong, Henry will talk to him. Or, well, Henry should talk to him. Alex would love to help.

“Earth to Alex,” Liam laughs, waving his hand in front of Alex’s face. They’re seated a big table at one of Alex’s favorite restaurants, a little Mexican place that’s always got room for a big group. He likes that he’s the one that discovered it––it makes him feel like a real local.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” he asks, blinking back into reality.

“Nothing as important as whatever’s going on in your head, obviously,” Nora says, raising an eyebrow at him.

Alex groans and dips a chip into the salsa, hoping to avoid having to answer with what he was thinking about. Now that’s he’s back to the real world, he can hardly remember the specifics of whatever thought just consumed his mind. It was about Henry, probably, but what about him? Alex feels terribly guilty for not having done more to check-in with him, but what else could he even do? He doesn’t want to harass Henry and make him feel like Alex wants to be all up in his business. Okay, well, Alex does want to be all up in his business, but he doesn’t want Henry to feel suffocated by that.

“Care to share with the class?” June asks with a smile, nudging Alex with her shoulder.

Alex groans. “It’s nothing,” he lies, really hoping everyone will drop it.

Of course, he has no such luck.

Even _Liam_ looks excited, now. “It’s a boy,” he accuses, pointing at finger at Alex. “Right?”

Alex seriously considers slamming his head into the table. Spencer, Liam’s cute boyfriend, is the only one keeping quiet. “It’s just Henry,” Alex argues, “so not, like, a _boy_ boy.”

June snorts from next to him so he shoots her a pointed glare.

“Why are you laughing?” Alex asks.

“Just…Alex, do you really think that you just like him as a friend?”

“Uh, yeah?” Alex doesn’t know what else he could see Henry as, honestly. He barely considers him a friend, considering how little interest Henry seems to have in him. And, based on Henry’s disinterest (or disgust, perhaps) in Alex’s scene with Liam, he’s feeling less and less like Henry even sees him as an actual human being half the time. Alex feels more like a bug on Henry’s windshield, honestly. A pest, soon to be washed away.

June just sort of laughs at him and carries on with, presumably, whatever conversation was happening before this mess started. Alex tries to follow the conversation but can’t really because his mind is on blond hair and blue eyes. God, he needs to get Henry out of his head. Henry and his stupid smile, his stupid laugh, that stupid face he makes when Alex does something nice for him. Alex would love to get away from this whole mess. As soon as they’re done shooting, Alex thinks that he should move to New York or something––get far away from Henry and his stupid words and his stupid smile that makes something in Alex fall apart at the seams.

On their way out of the restaurant, June and Liam sort of corner him before allowing him to leave. Alex doesn’t like the feeling of this––like they’re ganging up on him or something. Nora’s gone ahead to talk to Spencer about something that’s making him laugh and Alex desperately wishes he was a part of that conversation instead of the one that’s about to happen right now.

“We wanted to talk to you about Henry,” June says, answering at least one of the questions filling his mind.

He looks between them and frowns. He thinks, briefly, that this is the strangest duo to ever confront him about anything, especially Henry. “Okay…” he says, not really sure what else to say.

“Look, man,” Liam says with a sigh, “you’re a great guy, but you’re also an idiot.”

Alex furrows his brow at him. “Wow, thanks.”

Liam rolls his eyes and looks to June for help.

“Alex, I love you, but he’s right. Can you tell me, honestly, that this weird obsession you have with Henry is just a friend thing?”

Alex gapes at her, then at Liam, totally confounded by the whole prospect of this co conversation. He opens his mouth to say something––to tell them that yes, Henry is just a friend––but he closes it almost immediately and thinks about it for a moment. God, he’s been such an idiot. How often as he thought about Henry’s beautiful face, noting the subtleties of each expression? How many times as he felt a warm, gooey feeling fill up him whenever he thought about or heard Henry’s laugh? How many times has he literally ached from holding himself back from running his fingers through Henry’s soft-looking, sandy hair?

Alex groans as his jaw drops open. “Fuck,” he says, eyes wide. “Fucking shit! I––oh my God, I _like_ him.”


	6. Nervous As Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no one likes my little mermaid au and i'm sad about it

Okay, so maybe Alex should have thought this through a bit more before he just sort of _did_ it. But, as he’s walking up to Henry the next day at work with a shit-eating grin on his face, he realizes that it’s too late now. Henry looks suspicious, raising one eyebrow to really drive it home. They haven’t spoken at all since Henry left during Alex’s scene with Liam, and it looks like Henry wants to make a run for it right now. He’s holding a cup of tea and clenching it a bit too hard in his hand as Alex makes his way over to him. He’s a man on a mission, though, and he won’t be deterred.

“Hey,” he says as he approaches Henry, trying to look and sound casual, “long time no see.”

Henry looks down sheepishly at his cup. “Er, yes. If one day counts as a long time, I suppose.”

Alex rolls his eyes, but it’s not in a mean way. He’s incredibly fucking nervous and certainly should have thought through this more before he decided to just march over here, but he’s here now and he’d rather just take his chances and get rejected upfront instead of wondering if he should have done something different.

He takes a deep breath. “I…do you want to get tea sometime?

Henry looks down at his cup and then back up at Alex. “Er…”

Alex huffs and tugs a hand through his hair. Is it supposed to be this difficult? “It doesn’t have to be tea. It could be, uh, food. Or a drink. Whatever you want.”

Henry seems confused. “Oh, like last time? Will you have more questions prepared?”

Alex manages a weak laugh at that but he’s too nervous to really lean into it. “Yeah! I mean, no. Not _exactly_ like last time. I can have questions and stuff prepared if you want, but I meant more like not like last time in the sense that we were friends last time and…fuck, I’m totally fucking this up. Look, Henry, I’ve recently come to realize––and by that I mean that June and Liam practically forced me to realize––that I like you. Like, I _really_ like you. So I was kind of hoping that, maybe, you happen to like me, too?”

Henry stares at him blankly for a moment before clearing his throat awkwardly. “I––”

“Just to clarify,” Alex says before Henry can finish that thought, “I mean I like you like I wanna kiss you.”

Henry’s eyes widen. “Oh, I see,” he says.

Alex winces, waiting for the inevitable rejection.

“I… _Yes_. Christ, Alex, I’ve wanted to kiss you since your audition.”

Now Alex is the one staring at him. For a moment, no words reach him. He can’t believe this––how has Henry wanted to kiss him this whole time? How did he miss that? Shouldn’t it have been obvious somehow? He keeps staring at Henry while trying to piece this all together. After a moment, he finally comes back to himself. “W–– _What_? Are you shitting me? But you were such a dick to me!”

Henry chuckles at him like he’s being funny, not truthful. “Yes, well, you drove me mad. It’s entirely possible that I didn’t handle things correctly, there.”

“No shit,” Alex laughs. “But, so…you want to go out sometime? Tonight, maybe?”

Henry grins at him and nods. “I’d like that very much. Just text me where to meet you.”

“None of that shit. I’m picking you up. You need to text me your address, though.”

Henry raises an eyebrow at him. “You don’t––”

“I’m going to show you that I’m a perfect gentleman,” Alex argues with a mischievous smile. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Okay, so maybe asking Henry out in the morning was a terrible idea. Alex realizes this as soon as he tries to get through his day on set and then the few hours between work and their date. He’s a total nervous wreck on set––June’s words, not his––and can hardly concentrate. He manages to get some good takes in before Zahra calls it for the day, setting them all loose. Because he’s so fucking nervous, he actively avoids Henry while he gets his shit together and leaves to go back to his apartment. He has so much he needs to do in the short time he has before the date––he needs to shower, make a reservation somewhere, figure out where and what they should do, and decide what to wear. Fucking hell, he’ll never be able to get everything done on time.

By the time he crashes through the threshold to his apartment, he’s feeling more anxious than he has in a long time. He’s got first-day-on-set kind of nerves right now and he honestly doesn’t know how to handle it. He wonders if all of this might be easier with some alcohol––the bottle of Maker’s is taunting him from the counter––but he decides against it, settling for a very hot shower instead. He can get through this like he’s gotten through everything else in his life. This isn’t even something hard or bad––just totally nerve-wracking. He can’t even remember the last time he went on a real date with someone. He’s done a lot of hookups and one night stands with people he’s met on apps and at the bar and such, but he doesn’t think he’s ever done something quite like this. It’s never been something with feelings involved––he hadn’t even considered that feelings might be a real possibility until June and Liam dragged him aside and made him confront the fact that he likes Henry.

Once he’s out of the shower and feeling sufficiently clean but still just as stressed, he realizes that he has to face the biggest enemy known to mankind: his closet. Fucking shit, what the fuck is he supposed to wear? He made reservations to a nicer place so he knows that he has to look decent, but he doesn’t want to look like he’s trying too hard. All of his clothing seems bland and useless as he started at his closet and quickly sorts through all of his available options. He groans and finds his phone to call the one person that won’t bullshit him in his hour of need: Nora.

She responds to the FaceTime on the third ring. She looks annoyed but also sort of amused as soon as she sees Alex’s annoyed facial expression. “What crawled up your ass?”  
Alex groans and falls to the floor dramatically. “I’m dying and I need help.”

“Fine, I’ll bite: what’s wrong?”

“I’m going on a date with Henry a––”

She squeals. “What? Alex! Alex, are you serious? Did he finally ask you out?”

He glares at her. “No, I did.”

She cackles for a moment before she draws her lips into a thin line to stop her laughter.

Alex glares at her. “Can you _please_ stop being annoying and help me pick a fucking outfit?”

“Ugh, fine. Show me what we’re working with.”

Alex flips the camera to show her the closet. She directs him to certain pieces and tells him to lay them out on his bed (which is unmade and covered in papers) to decide on later. Once he has about five different shirts and pants options laid out on his bed, Nora helps him mix and match the sets to create an outfit. She helps him settle on a crisp, white shirt, grey pants, and maroon tie with little sunglasses embroidered into it. He looks at himself in the mirror for a while, trying to figure out if he looks good enough for his date. He decides that he should at least try to do something to his hair, but no amount of gel can tame his curls. He gives up after a few minutes and a handful of product later, deciding to just grab his keys and wallet and head out to pick Henry up.

Henry’s place isn’t too far from his own––just a ten-minute drive. Alex turns his music up to full volume with his windows down to try and let his anxiety float away to the music and the wind rushing past his face. It probably isn’t good for his hair, but he can’t bring himself to care in the moment. The wind feels so good against his face and pushing up into his hair. The music surrounds him and fills him with a sense of calm that he hasn’t felt all day. It’ll be a fucking _miracle_ if he can get through this dinner without falling into pieces. Normally, Alex is pretty cool and relaxed. Something about Henry makes his insides clench and twist nervously and he doesn’t know how to handle it yet. It’s been so long––too long, probably––since he’s felt something like this for another person. The fact that Henry’s smile can make his insides melt makes him wary of what Henry might do to him if he gives him his heart in its entirety.

And, oh God––they’ll probably _kiss_. It’s something they’ve both said they wanted, but what does that even mean? Does Henry expect that they’ll have sex tonight? Alex doesn’t think he’s ready for that––no matter how much his body disagrees with that. He needs to take this slow. He’s so used to one night stands that he’s afraid that having sex on the first date will make him want to run and hide from Henry when that’s literally the last thing he’d want to do.

He shoots Henry a text to let him know that he’s outside. As much as he’d like to walk up to Henry’s building and knock on his door, he doesn’t think that his legs will really function right now. He’s practically vibrating with nervous energy.

Then, as soon as Henry emerges from the nice, modern building, something in Alex’s chest stutters as he lets out a shaky breath.

 _Oh_ , he thinks to himself, _he’s so fucking beautiful_.

Then, when Henry shoots him a tentative smile as he approaches Alex’s car, all of his anxiety floats away.


	7. A Kiss Goodnight

If Alex hadn’t impulsively asked Henry on a date and had, instead, given himself more time to plan a wonderful evening, he would have chosen something better. Henry doesn’t seem upset with the restaurant choice––a small Italian place with pretty fairy lights and a romantic atmosphere––but Alex wishes he had more time to pick something better. Maybe, if things go well, he’ll be able to take Henry out on a date more suited to his personality. A bookshop, maybe. He wants to take Henry up to San Francisco and show him City Lights. He wants to see the shine in Henry’s eyes while he roamed the aisles of books and let his delicate fingers run up and down the spines, touching thousands of stories before deciding on a few to take home with him. The image sends a shiver down Alex’s spine.

“You alright over there?” Henry asks with a quirked eyebrow. They’ve just taken their seats at their table––a small one in the corner by the big windows in the front. Alex had to bribe the hostess to get it, but he’s happy he did. Henry looks fucking gorgeous in this lighting.

He nods and takes a nervous sip of water. “Yeah. Just, uh, nervous, I guess.” Is that something he’s allowed to say? Maybe he shouldn’t have told Henry that he was nervous. The thing is, though, that Alex rarely gets nervous. He doesn’t really date people all that much these days, but he remembers a sort of calm (as calm as he could be, anyway) feeling that washed over him when he got ready for a date. Even when he used to date around, it was never because he was really looking for someone to get to know better. It was more for the sake of having something to do, someone to kiss, someone to laugh with. Nothing ever got serious and there was hardly any downside to going on dates with random people. But Henry isn’t a random person and Alex doesn’t feel like this date is just something to do. This date is with the guy that’s been in his head since his audition. He wants to know Henry. He wants Henry to know him. Fuck, this might be the scariest thing he’s ever done.

Henry smiles at him from across the table and sighs in what sounds like relief. “Oh, thank God. I thought I was the only one.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Alex doesn’t mean for it to sound snappy or rude, but he’s afraid it might have. He just wants to make sure that Henry knows that this is something real for him––that Henry isn’t just a way to kill time and get off.

“Nothing. I only meant that you seemed calm. It’s…it’s nice to know that we’re both nervous. It makes me feel better.”

Alex smiles at him and looks down at the wine list. Normally, people trust him to pick the bottle for the evening. To be fair, a lot of the girls he’s gone out with have been struggling actresses or college girls that drink boxed wine instead of bottled wine, so the bar was quite low. Henry seems like he has a good head on his shoulders, taste-wise, so Alex hands him the list.

“I feel like you know your way around a wine list,” Alex says with a smile. When Henry takes the list from him, their fingers brush and it sends a tingle through Alex’s whole body. It’s a new feeling and certainly not one he’s ever encountered before from something as trivial as brushing fucking hands with someone. Fuck, is he inn over his head?

“I think I can manage,” Henry says. “Do you know what you’ll be having?”

Alex peers down at his menu again even though he’s pretty sure he knows what he wants. The double-take confirms it. “Yup. The bolognese one. You?”

Henry sighs and looks between the wine list and his menu for a moment before setting them both down. “Well, I was thinking the fish, but since you’ve chosen something that would go better with a red––”

“Don’t feel like you have to change your order,” Alex says. “If you want the fish, get the fish. We can do it by the glass or we can get a bottle of red and white.” Alex knows that there’s no way he’ll be able to afford this, though. He’s not broke but this is a nice place with an expensive wine list and a pretty hefty price per plate. He’s already ordering one of the cheaper things on the menu to make sure Henry can get whatever he wants without feeling too nervous about it, but still. “I’ll do wine by the glass. Here, let me see the list so I can––”

Henry tucks the list under his menu and sets his elbows down on top of it. “No need,” Henry assures him. “We’ll get two bottles. I’ve picked out nice ones and we can try both.”

Alex doesn’t know how to tell him that, yeah, that sounds nice, but there’s no way he can afford it. He’s got rent to pay. Gas to buy. He can’t blow all of his money on a big, fancy dinner, even if it’s for Henry. He wishes he had the money to get Henry whatever he wanted. He’d buy Henry flowers upon flowers and journals and whatever else his heart desired if he could afford it. He opens his mouth to say as much but Henry holds up a hand and shoots him a nervous, lopsided smile.

“If it’s okay with you, I’d like to pay.”

Alex sits back in his chair and gapes at him. Did he say any of that out loud? He shakes his head, stubborn ’til the end. “No, I asked you out. I should be the one to pay. This is my––”

“Alex,” Henry says in a way that makes Alex shut the hell up and give Henry one hundred percent of his undivided attention (like he didn’t have that already). “I insist, okay? I should have mentioned this sooner, though I thought you knew. I––”

Their waiter comes over to take their orders, putting whatever Henry was about to say on hold. They both order quickly and Alex pulls his attention back to Henry, eager to hear what he was about to say.

Henry leans in a bit and lowers his voice. “I have quite a bit of money because of, well, you know.”

Alex blinks at him and shakes his head. “I don’t know, actually.” His mind his reeling as it tries to fill in the blank. Is Henry involved in something shady? Has he written a porno or something? Does he have some sort of secret hustle he runs on the side?

“You really don’t know about my dad?”

Okay, well, that wasn’t what Alex was expecting to hear. He certainly does not know about Henry’s dad. This is their first date, for fuck’s sake. Shit, did Henry mention his dad before? Alex can’t recall a time where Henry even said the word “dad.”

Henry must take his silence to mean that he still has no clue what’s going on. “Look him up,” he instructs. “Arthur Fox.”

Alex keeps his eyes on Henry as he slides his phone out of his pocket. The name sounds vaguely familiar but he isn’t sure where it fits. He types the name into the search bar and finds millions of results. The first result is a picture of him––blond, blue-eyed, and strong-jawed like Henry––in a tuxedo at some red carpet event or another. There’s a little box with general information like where he was born, his height––Alex squints at two of the factoids before him. There’s a line under “born” that says “died.” Then, right under the picture of him, there’s a small paragraph that explains that he was one of the more recent Bond actors––playing James Bond himself. Alex gapes at Henry for a moment before setting his phone down on the table.

“Holy shit,” he says, trying to figure out what exactly this means. His mind his running too slow right now as it processes this. He’s never been a huge Bond fan or anything, but he’s seen a few movies. Mostly the classics, obviously, but some of the more recent ones as well. He’s definitely seen Arthur Fox’s James Bond. He remembers June gawking at him through the whole film because she thought he was so attractive. “Your dad is a legend.”

Henry smiles sadly. “Yes, he was.”

Alex shakes his head and reaches out for Henry’s hands across the table. “Just because he’s dead doesn’t mean that his talent goes away or something. He’s a fucking legend, okay? Even if he’s gone.”

Henry looks like he’s blinking back a tear so Alex gives his hands a squeeze before bringing them up to his mouth and giving them a gentle kiss at the knuckles. Henry laughs wetly and takes them back so he can wipe his eyes. Alex is at a loss for what to do in this sort of situation. He’s never made his date cry before, especially on the first date, so he doesn’t know the protocol. It seems like Henry isn’t crying because he’s upset, though, which is a good thing. He almost looks…relieved, maybe? Pleased? Alex feels like he’s done something right, but he has no idea what he’s really done.

“Sorry for crying,” Henry says after a moment with a small sniffle and a shy smile. “It’s…it’s nice to hear someone talk about him in the present tense. It makes me feel like he isn’t really gone.”

“What was he like?”

Henry smiles and launches into a long monologue about his dad that ends just as the appetizers arrive. As soon as the appetizers come, Henry takes a bite and looks at Alex sheepishly.

“Well, that’s officially the longest I’ve ever spoken without interruption. So, if you’d like to say something now––”

“No!” Alex says. After a second, he realizes that it sounded too desperate. He clears his throat and tries again. “It was good. I liked hearing you talk about him. I––I like hearing you talk.”

Henry chuckles and his eyes crinkle at the edges. It makes something in Alex’s insides clench. “Oh, you have a thing for British accents, do you?”

“No, actually. Just, uh, your British accent.”

Henry leans in closer and Alex can see a wonderful glint in his eyes. Fuck, how is it possible for someone’s eyes to be so pretty? “Really?”

Alex nods. His throat is dry. Why is his throat so dry? He takes a sip of wine––red. It’s fucking amazing. He isn’t sure why he expected anything less.

“This is good wine,” he says, trying to change the subject and get himself out of the hot seat. He doesn’t need Henry to know just how much he’s been obsessing over him. He needs to leave some things to mystery. If Henry knows how much Alex likes him, this could all be over. He knows that Henry wants to kiss him (and has since auditions, apparently) but that doesn’t mean that he’s as invested as Alex is.

“I’m glad you like it. Would you like to try the white?” Henry extends his glass across the table and Alex takes it, letting his fingers curl around Henry’s for a moment before taking the glass and raising it to his lips. He takes a sip and maintains eye contact with Henry the whole time, hoping that this whole thing comes across as sexy instead of weird.

He hands the glass back to Henry and smiles from the corner of his mouth. “That’s good, too. You must know a lot about wine, huh?”

Henry beams and sets the glass down. “I suppose. My grandmother insisted we learn about wine and food. I don’t quite understand why, but the education has served me well.”

“I know how to make some kick-ass sangria,” Alex tells him. “And I’m really good at making vodka shots.”

Henry rolls his eyes. “That’s hardly a skill. All you have to do is pour the vodka in a shot glass.”

Alex feigns offense and gasps dramatically while Henry chews his meatball. “The skill is the pour. It’s all in the wrists, you know?”

“I most certainly do not.”

“I’ll have to show you sometime.”

“Ah, yes. You can teach me how to pour the best shot and I can help you decide which wines and cheeses pair nicely. It will be fantastic.”

Alex furrows his brow. “Okay, so we’ve got date number two. Now we just have to think of three through ten.”

“Ten?” Henry gapes.

“Yeah,” Alex shrugs. “I figure that those will be the ones where we’re still trying to impress each other, you know? Figure each other out. After date ten, we’ll be totally solid and we can make date night just lounging in sweatpants with take out and your dad’s movies.”

Henry’s surprised look morphs into a happy grin. He raises a glass. “Well then,” he says as Alex raises his own, “to our first ten dates.”

They clink their glasses together and smile.

The rest of the dinner goes pretty well. They talk––mostly about Alex since Henry makes a point of asking him a series of questions––and laugh for a good while until it’s time to pay the check and leave. It’s already getting pretty late and they both have to be up early for work tomorrow, so Alex decides to take Henry straight back to his apartment. Now, knowing what he knows of Henry’s family, he wonders why Henry didn’t use the money from his father to get a nicer place. The building is nice and new, but it’s not that large. Henry explained that while he wasn’t getting money from his family since he had decided to move to LA, he still had a sizable amount that he inherited from his father. From the sound of it, a “sizable amount” means more money than Alex has ever seen.

“So…” Henry says, turning to face Alex. They’re outside his building in Alex’s car.

“So,” Alex chuckles nervously.

Henry clears his throat. “Er, thank you for a great evening. I hope we can do this again.”

“Yeah, me too. I really––”

He’s interrupted by Henry’s lips on his own. Alex doesn’t mind being shut up like this. He quickly melts into the kiss and cups Henry’s strong jaw with his hand, letting his fingers trace along the edges there. One of Henry’s hands slips into Alex’s hair and gives it a little tug as their mouths move against each other in harmony. Just as Alex starts to deepen the kiss, Henry pulls away and rests their foreheads together.

“Would you like to come upstairs?” he asks in a breathless whisper.

Normally, Alex wouldn’t even have to think about it. The thing is, though, that he likes Henry. Like really really likes him. If he has sex with him now, it might ruin whatever this is. This isn’t a one night stand and he needs to remember that. He shakes his head and brushes a stray hair behind Henry’s ear. “I probably shouldn’t.”

Henry pulls back and Alex sees a flash of hurt whip across his face. “Oh, I see. I––”

“No, I mean, yes. Normally I totally would because––Jesus fucking Christ, you’re amazing and beautiful––but I can’t right now. I––you’re the first person I’ve gone out with in a while and I really like you and I don’t want to move too fast and, uh, risk this. Does that…is that okay with you?”

Henry looks at him for a moment––his blue eyes sparkling in the street light––and nods. “Yes. Sorry, I––”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Alex tells him. “Believe me, I really want to. I just think it’ll be better if we take this slow, right? I don’t want to rush this.”

“I don’t want to either,” Henry tells him, looking down. He looks back up and then at Alex’s lips. “Can I…can I kiss you again?”

Alex chuckles. “You can kiss me whenever you want, sweetheart.”

Henry kisses him again, softly, before pulling away and unbuckling his seat belt. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”  
Alex nods. “Yeah. Goodnight, Henry.”

Henry steps out of the car and turns back to face him with flushes cheeks and a sheepish smile. “Goodnight, Alex.”


	8. A Menace

Well, it’s day nine of this relationship––is it a relationship? Alex should probably ask Henry about that––and it’s amazing. They’re both crazy busy with the show, but it’s nice because they get to be crazy busy in the same place. Whenever Zahra yells “cut,” Alex’s eyes instantly find the sea of calming blue and a slight smile. Henry does that a lot these days––smiles. Alex is living for it. It’s so good to see Henry happy and to be the reason that he’s so happy. It makes Alex feel like he’s actually accomplished something on earth, like at least one thing he did really means something. Every time Henry smiles at him, Alex gets nervous butterflies in his stomach because it feels like such a privilege to see such a sight. It’s like staring directly at the sun.

They steal moments when they have little breaks. Usually, these moments are spent in Henry’s dressing room because he has a sofa and the space is more organized than Alex’s. They spend most of their time kissing––they haven’t progressed to anything more. It’s killing Alex to feel Henry’s boner but helpless to do anything about it. They haven’t discussed sex apart from the first night and Alex doesn’t want their first time to be in the fucking studio over a ten-minute break. No, Alex needs time. He needs to have hours set aside to explore every inch of Henry’s body––to devour him piece by piece. He won’t settle for anything less. It feels a bit like his first time ever which, in a way, it sort of is. Every sexual encounter he’s had before Henry feels insignificant and wrong in the face of this budding romance. Feelings add so much pressure and excitement and Alex is sure that his heart is due to give out when he thinks about it for too long. He wants this but he’s absolutely terrified to actually do it. This thing he has with Henry is so new and perfect and Alex doesn’t want sex to ruin it. He doesn’t want to disappoint Henry because that would be the ultimate rejection. There’s never been a complaint before, so maybe Alex is just being overly dramatic about all of this, but still. It feels…huge. A line he can’t uncross.

He’s with Henry now and it’s amazing. They’re not even doing anything special. Henry’s drinking his tea, sitting on his ruddy sofa, and Alex has his head in Henry’s lap while he pretends to scroll through Twitter on his phone. What he’s actually doing is sneaking glances at Henry while he reads his email. The moment feels like the most relationship-y thing they’ve done. They’re not talking but it doesn’t feel awkward or weird. It feels…peaceful. Content. Alex would be an idiot to disrupt it.

“H?” he asks, setting his phone down on his chest so Henry knows that he’s fully invested.

Henry peers down at him and sets his phone down, too. His now free hand instantly falls onto Alex’s curls and his long, nimble fingers work their way through his unruly curls. He’s got a callous on his middle finger from countless hours spent gripping a pencil. He’s told Alex about it––about how, when he was younger, he always carried around a pencil and a notebook to have an easy escape when conversations went south or when he felt that he didn’t really want to be in the real world anymore. Henry talks about this time like it’s something he’s ashamed of, but Alex finds the image of a young Henry with a leather-bound notebook from his dad clutched nervously against his chest, eager to open it and create worlds on its worn pages, endearing. So endearing, in fact, that it makes him want to cry a bit.

“Hm?”

“Are we dating?”

Henry’s hand goes completely still in Alex’s hair. Alex tenses and can’t help but feel like he somehow just produced a hammer out of his ass and somehow shattered this delicate moment and their entire fucking relationship in three fucking words. He closes his eyes and starts to move because he’s feeling jittery and anxious and he wants to get away from this awkward situation but Henry’s grip on his curls only intensifies as he tries to move. He gives up and settles for nervously picking at his nails instead. Someone will probably give him hell for it but he doesn’t really care about that right now.

“I mean,” Henry begins, his voice unsure. Alex holds his breath and squeezes his eyes closed. “I certainly thought so. If you disagree, we––”

“No,” Alex almost yells as he launches himself into a seated position. He quickly finds Henry’s hands and takes them in his own. “I want that. I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page.”

Henry’s uneasiness quickly melts into a smile. A smile that Alex knows is reserved only for him. “Right. Good. So…”

“So you’re my boyfriend,” Alex tells him, unable to hide the shit-eating grin from his face.

Henry kisses his forehead.

It’s something so stupid, so mundane, but also something so fucking precious and heart wrenching and Alex feels like he might literally swoon at the feeling of Henry’s lips gently placing a kiss on his forehead. It’s something he’s never had before in this context. People have wanted their lips on him, sure, but only his mouth and his dick. No one’s ever wanted to kiss him anywhere else for the sake of it––because, somehow, they’ll have a great sense of loss if their lips don’t find delicate contact soon. It makes his heart soar. It makes his throat dry. It makes all of the nerves in his body tingle and radiate with adoration and bliss.

“I quite like the sound of that,” Henry tells him when his lips are gone.

“I like you,” Alex says.

Henry leans in a bit closer and touches their foreheads together, brushing his nose against Alex’s. “I like you, too. A great deal.”

Alex doesn’t know what to say––doesn’t have the words necessary to convey all of the wonderful things that Henry’s making him feel right now––so he kisses him instead.

Maybe it’s the kiss or maybe it’s the words said before it, but Alex feels so stupid for having any qualms about having sex with Henry. When they’re like this, everything goes quiet in the background. The rest of the world fades away until it’s just Alex and his posh writer boyfriend and the way that their bodies melt together on contact. Alex can only imagine how all of this will increase exponentially when he and Henry finally have sex together. How the warm press of their naked bodies will create some sort of alternate timeline for them. How the rest of the world might just cease to exist.

Alex pulls back and already misses the feeling of Henry’s lips on his own. “Do you want to come over?” he asks into the meager space between them. “Tonight?”

Henry kisses him again for a moment before nodding. “Yes. Should I bring anything? Wine?”

Alex shrugs. “If you want. What food do you want?”

Henry pulls Alex closer and turns him around so Alex is leaning against Henry’s chest. Henry’s head finds its way on top of his, his chin resting in the dark curls, and his arms circle around Alex’s waist. He sighs. “Whatever you’d like. I’m not picky.”

On instinct, Alex crunches his nose. “That’s a fucking lie.”

He can practically feel Henry roll his eyes. “Okay, but not when it comes to you. I’d love anything you decide to cook. Just let me know so I can choose the wine accordingly.”

“Okay, fine. So we’re having spaghetti.”

Henry chuckles and Alex feels it reverberate through his body. “Mm, so classy. You really know how to make a man swoon.”

Alex rolls his eyes and jabs Henry with his elbow enough for him to feel it but not enough for it to hurt. “Fuck you! I make amazing meatballs. They’re spicy, though. Think your British, spiceless ass can handle it?”

“My ass can handle just about anything, thank you.”

They both go rigid and silent at the implication. Alex’s breath hitches in his throat. He can hear Henry’s heart thumping in his skull.

Alex pulls himself away so he can look at Henry––really look at him. He’s got his bottom lip pulled between his teeth and his face is pink and flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. He’s looking down nervously as he fiddles with the cuff of his sweater. And, oh God, Alex’s heart does a little flip at the sight of him like this. He takes Henry’s jaw in his hand and plants a delicate kiss to his lips.

“You didn’t let me finish,” he tells him.

Henry finally meets his gaze. His blue eyes look nervous and Alex wants to kiss the nerves away but he knows that he needs to say something first. “What?”

“When you asked if you should bring anything.”

Henry furrows his brows at him. “Yes, and I said I’d bring wine.”

“Yeah, but I was gonna ask you to bring something else. And you totally don’t have to if you don’t want to––and I know we haven’t really had this discussion––but I was gonna ask you to bring an overnight bag.”

Henry’s eyebrows shoot up and his eyes go wide. “Oh I––Really?”

Alex smiles softly at him. His hand is still on Henry’s jaw so he rubs the soft skin there between his fingers. “Yeah. I…I think I might die if I don’t get to touch you soon.”

Henry bites back a smile at that. “You’re touching me right now, aren’t you?”

“You’re a dick. You know what I mean.”

Henry, ever infuriating, feigns innocence. “I assure you that I most certainly do not.”

Alex rolls his eyes and brings his mouth right to Henry’s ear. “I want my mouth on you, sweetheart.”

He feels Henry’s sharp intake of breath and smirks, knowing that he’s won. He pulls himself off of him and stands up. “Well, I’ve gotta get back. See you tonight, then?”

Henry’s eyes flick down towards his crotch––which has a very noticeable bulge––and then back up at Alex. “You’re a menace.”

Alex blows him a kiss. “See you tonight.”


	9. Date Night

The spaghetti is just about ready, the sauce is heating up, and the meatballs are cooking. He’s already dressed in a salmon (Nora said pink but the tag said fucking salmon) button-down that’s tucked into his best jeans. His place is about as spotless as it’s gonna get which is to say that all of the clutter has been either shoved under his bed, under the couch, into his closet, or onto his desk. He’s got the table set with some kind of fucking magic candles that June brought over earlier and he’s using actual plates instead of paper ones. It’ll be fine. It’ll be great. He’s not nervous at all.

Except he totally is.

When Henry knocks on his door, he nearly shits himself. He jumps a solid few inches and mutters a quiet fuck under his breath before he checks his hair and ass in the mirror and opens the door.

Henry’s there with a sheepish smile on his face, a small duffle bag slung around his left shoulder, and a single red rose in his hand. He’s wearing a white collared shirt under his blue and white sweater and dark jeans that give Alex a sneak peek at his sturdy, muscular thighs and his small, tight ass. Alex is speechless at the sight of him like this––so gorgeous and perfect and effortless. Henry shoots him a lopsided, unfiltered grin when he sees Alex’s slack jaw and wide eyes taking in the sight of him.

He steps into the apartment and closes the door behind him, wrapping an arm around Alex’s waist and pulling him closer. “Hello, love,” he says, kissing Alex quickly.

Alex hums in delight at the name and at the realization that Henry is in his apartment for the first time and that they’re going to have a home-cooked meal and finally have sex. The thought of how normal all this sends a shiver down his spine.

“You look fucking amazing,” Alex tells him, running his hands down Henry’s chest. Henry smells like fresh linens and mowed grass and it’s so annoyingly perfect that it makes Alex want to kiss him until he forgets his name. He’ll save that for later, though. For now, he’ll just drink in the sight of his beautiful boyfriend with his blond hair and blue eyes and tight ass. God, Henry in these jeans should be a fucking crime.

Henry laughs and pulls away a bit to hand Alex the rose. “So do you. It also smells incredible in here.”

Alex’s eyes widen. “Fuck, I need to check on the food,” he says, getting into action. He dashes over to the small kitchen area and starts to take the food off the stove. “Uh, make yourself comfortable, okay?”

He hears Henry start moving around the space and he smiles to himself at the sound of it. He wants Henry to feel comfortable here––wants him to come over when he wants to and make himself at home. The place is a tiny hole in the wall but it’s cozy and chaotic and Alex loves the thought of Henry wanting to come over and feel at peace here. He knows that Henry’s spent his life growing up in impersonal rooms at his family’s massive estate, so Alex wants to give him a place where he can just be himself. They don’t have to hide when they’re here. They don’t have to pretend to be friends or anything that they’re not. It’s a relief, honestly.

Once Alex has gotten the food into various little serving platters and bowls, he starts to move it into the dining area. It’s not really its own room––just a small nook with a table and four chairs. Henry’s already there and opening the bottle of wine he brought for the occasion. It looks expensive, but Alex tries not to dwell on it.

He sets everything down in the center of the table and watches as Henry pours wine into the glasses he set out earlier.

“You’ve set this up nicely,” Henry says, gesturing to the table.

Alex grins and sits down. “Thanks. I just want you to know that the fact that I’m using real plates for you should really make you feel special.”

Henry sits down across from him and smiles. “Oh, I do. Unless this is just the same setup you use on all of your spaghetti dates.”

“I like how you assume that I’d do this for anyone else.”

Henry raises an eyebrow.

They haven’t really had this conversation yet. Alex knows that it’s something they should probably talk about––their dating pasts––but his own is so uneventful and cringe-inducing that he’d rather just avoid the topic forever. It seems that Henry has other ideas, though.

“As if you haven’t dated around.”

Alex takes a sip of his wine before responding. Damn him, it’s fucking amazing. “I haven’t actually,” he admits. It makes him nervous to say for some reason. He isn’t quite sure why.

“Oh, I––I’m sorry,” Henry says.

Alex shrugs and starts serving them both a little bit of everything.

“I meant it as a compliment. You’re just so…you’re so beautiful and funny and smart. I find it hard to believe that I’m––that this is––”

“I’ve just never had the time or energy for it. I like to focus on my work for the most part. And I think Richards would kill me if he got word that I was in a serious relationship with someone.”

Well, fuck. They haven’t talked about Richards, either. That’s a whole other conversation––a lengthy one. How is Alex supposed to explain that Richards gets to call the shots? That he and Henry won’t be able to go public? Richards will literally skin him alive if he finds out about this. Alex’s career will be over. Henry’s career could be ruined, too. Richards has all the power and Alex needs to stay on his good side if he wants to keep his head above water. He can’t afford to slip up or piss him off. If he can’t act anymore, he doesn’t know what he’ll do with himself. It’s been his dream for so long now that he isn’t sure who he is without it.

Henry is silent for a moment so Alex starts eating to try and make himself less nervous.

“You’re not out to him, are you?”

It’s really not the question that Alex was expecting. Henry knows that Alex’s sexuality is very much on the down-low––something he doesn’t want or need to advertise at this moment. Henry is also not super public about it. He doesn’t hide it, but he also doesn’t really advertise. He’s told Alex that he doesn’t want to be seen as some sort of icon––he doesn’t feel like he deserves a title like that. There’s a part of Henry that wants to be an icon, Alex thinks. A part of him that wants everyone to know who he is and what he stands for so he can help as many people as possible. It’s that giving heart of his––the part of him that always wants to do more and be more. But Alex…Alex can’t even imagine being out to everyone in his life, let alone the entire world. For him, acting is how he helps people. It’s who he is. Without acting, Alex is nothing. And if he tells Richards, and if he loses access to that part of himself, he doesn’t think he’ll survive it. What’s the point of Alex being here if not to tell stories? To not bring wonderful scripts to life?

“Do you like the spaghetti?” he asks, trying to change gears and ignore Henry’s question.

Henry doesn’t back down, though. “Alex.”

Alex sighs dramatically and throws his utensils down. “Fuck, Henry, you know I’m not. You know I can’t be. He’ll––” he pauses, unsure of what to say. Henry won’t understand no matter what he says. Henry will tell him that Richards is no good––he’ll tell him to cut him loose and find another agent. And, yeah, maybe he should. Maybe having another agent would make everything easier. But the thing is that Alex owes Richards his career––Richards and his connections are the only reason Alex can afford to live while doing what he loves. If he cuts Richards loose, it’s all over. Everything he’s working so hard to achieve will be called off for good. He’ll never be able to get another job.

“Is he––does he threaten you?” Henry asks in a voice so quiet Alex can barely hear it.

“No,” Alex says defensively. “He’s just…old-fashioned.”

Henry sighs and reaches out for his hands across the table. Alex gives them to him but he feels ashamed for some reason. He doesn’t quite understand why Henry’s sympathetic look is making him feel like he’s done something wrong or like he’s some sort of victim. He’s not a victim. He’s doing what every other actor in Hollywood has to do to get to the top. He’s not special––his story isn’t news. In fact, it’s probably better than a lot of other people’s. He’s one of the lucky ones––why doesn’t anyone see that?

“You know you can talk to me, right? I can help you find a new agent. I’ll even pay for a new agent if that means you’re safe. I’ve––I’ve heard things about Richards. Dreadful things. I just want to make sure you’re safe and okay.”

Alex forces a smile on his face and nods. “Look, Richards is good to me. I don’t know what you’ve heard but it’s probably just bullshit. Now let’s eat before it gets cold, okay?”

He removes his hands from Henry’s and goes back to his plate.

Henry looks dubious but starts eating anyway, looking over at Alex every few seconds.

Something’s changed between them now. Alex can feel some sort of tension hanging in the air. All he wanted was a nice, quiet, sex-filled night with his boyfriend and now things are weird and he’s pretty sure that Henry’s mad at him or something. This is exactly why he never talks about Richards. This is why he doesn’t like opening up about this sort of thing to people. It pushes them away––makes them think that he’s doing something shady to get roles. He knows that he’s earned his roles. Richards is a foot in the door––that’s it. Alex is talented and he knows it. He knows that his passion and energy make him a great fit for a lot of characters and people hire him because he’s good, not because Richards threatened them.

“I’m sorry,” Henry says after a minute or two of awkward silence.

Alex looks up at him but doesn’t say anything.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or to overstep.”

“Let’s just…not talk about it again, okay? I’m not mad at you. It’s just complicated.”

Henry nods in agreement and smiles awkwardly before taking another sip of wine. Alex wants to ask if the romantic mood is ruined now. Will Henry still sleepover? Honestly, they don’t even need to have sex. Alex just wants him to stay. He wants to be able to hold Henry in his arms and wake up next to him. Sex would be great, but having Henry here in any form is enough for him. He’s been alone for most of his life apart from some flings, so it’s new and nice and exciting to feel this way about someone.

“Are you still gonna stay?”

Henry furrows his brows. “What? Of course. I mean unless you want me to leave.”

Alex shakes his head so fast he thinks he might have just gotten whiplash. “No! I want you to stay. We don’t even have to do anything if I’ve, like, ruined our night, but I––”

“Alex,” Henry says, his voice serious, “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you for your audition. You’ve not ruined anything.”

Alex feels his face heat up. Warm spreads all the way to the tips of his ears. “Oh,” he says, his voice sounding a lot higher than it should, “wow. I’m––should we clean up and––”

Henry is on his feet in an instant, plate and glass in hand. “Yes,” he agrees, taking Alex’s, too. “I think that’s a marvelous idea.”

Alex smirks and watches as Henry walks into the kitchen.

He’s so fucked.


	10. So Beautiful

They clean up quickly since the promise of sex lingers in the air between them. The tension is high and the stakes are even higher. If this ruins their fucking relationship, Alex is going to scream. He likes Henry. _Really, really_ likes him. Probably more than he’s ever liked another human being outside of his family and Nora. To say he’s nervous would be a complete understatement. He’s terrified. It’s kind of nice, though. It’s keeping him in check and making him think before he does stupid things like just bend Henry over the counter and take him from behind. Yeah, it’s probably best that they use his bed. For the first time, anyway. _Would_ Henry like to fuck in the kitchen? How have they not discussed what they’re into? What they like? Henry seems pretty vanilla comparatively. He seems like the kind of guy that wants the whole slow, sensual thing instead of the rough and dirty stuff. And that’s fine. Really. It’s enough because it’s Henry.

When they get into Alex’s room and Alex shuts the door, he realizes that he has no idea how to proceed. What is Henry expecting? What does he want? What does he like?

Alex doesn’t even have to answer those questions because Henry is kissing him as soon as he steps forward. And, oh God, it’s so good. It’s always so good. Kissing Henry is like eating his favorite food or watching his favorite movie. It’s like every feeling and everything he loves wrapped up into one man and he can’t get enough of it. He might be addicted to kissing Henry. He’s certainly addicted to the way that Henry’s tongue moves across his lips before slipping into his mouth. And how one of Henry’s hands always manages to find its way into Alex’s messy curls like he’ll die if he doesn’t feel the hair between his fingers right fucking now. It makes Alex giddy and excited and so full of emotion that he feels like he might burst. He doesn’t understand how it’s possible to have Henry in his life. Having Henry is a reward for something he hasn’t accomplished––it’s something he doesn’t deserve.

Henry takes charge and pushes Alex back towards the bed. It surprises him to see Henry with such dominant energy, but it’s also thrilling. It’s a pleasant surprise that goes straight to his cock. He kisses Henry back harder, pulling him down with him to the bed by wrapping his arms around Henry’s waist. The kiss breaks for a moment as they land but they quickly slot into place again, unable to break contact for more than a second without bursting into flame (probably. Alex feels like he’ll combust if Henry stops doing that fucking thing with his tongue, anyway).

He makes quick work of Henry’s shirt despite the awkward angle and the even awkwarder fact that he can’t see what he’s doing. Henry breaks the kiss to shrug the shirt off completely and Alex pushes him back so he can stare at him for a moment.

Somehow, Henry’s chest is lean and muscular and beautiful and Alex wants to run his tongue across the hard lines he sees there. Like, how the fuck does Henry, a _writer_ , have such a nice body? What the fuck does he do in his free time? Alex almost wants to demand his workout routine because it is clearly doing wonders for him. Alex has never been so turned on in his life. Henry’s bare chest has to be the single sexist thing he’s ever fucking seen. It’s not fair, seriously. And don’t even get him _started_ on Henry’s fucking collarbones. They’re so sleek and beautiful like they were handcrafted in some sort of divine porcelain, sent down to earth as a way to fuck Alex over completely. He fucking hates how beautiful Henry is. Alex feels like a fucking saint for going this long without touching Henry like this because–– _fuck_ , how the fuck is ever supposed to keep his hands to himself after seeing Henry’s chest? He’ll have to make a no-shirt rule in his apartment or something to get his fill.

“Fuck,” Alex groans, choosing to run a finger down his chest instead of his tongue.

Henry looks at him through thick lashes. “What?”

Fuck Henry’s pretty little posh accent. Fuck his fancy vowels and his parted lips and his fucking out of breath and turned on voice. How the fuck is Alex supposed to keep a calm, rational head when Henry looks and sounds like this? Jesus _fuck_.

“You’re so…” Alex doesn’t even have the fucking words.

“So what?” Henry whispers in the barely tangible space between them.

“ _Beautiful_ ,” Alex whispers back before taking Henry by the back of his neck.

As soon as they crash back down onto the bed, Henry’s hands are pawing at Alex’s shirt like getting the stupid thing off him is his new life mission. Alex is happy to help him out and remove the damned thing completely, even if he knows that he doesn’t look as good as Henry does. Even if he feels self-conscious and weird because he’s smaller and more of the fit type than the chiseled type. Even if he knows he can’t compete with his boyfriend’s fucking miraculous six-pack. He squeezes his eyes shut when his shirt comes off, not eager to see Henry’s reaction. Surely Henry won’t think he’s half as attractive now. Surely Henry thinks that he should work out more if he wants to keep pursuing acting. He can’t become a heartthrob without a fucking amazing body. He knows that. He’s just…not there yet. And he’s got some weird scars from stupid shit he did when he was younger like that time he tried to ride a motorcycle when he was thirteen and ended up going to the E.R. to get stitches on his side. He knows he’s not half as perfect as Henry.

Henry’s lips move away and he stills. It makes Alex feel like he’s going to throw up. Fuck, he knew this was a bad idea. He knew that sex could ruin everything between them but…he just really, _really_ hoped it wouldn’t.

“Alex,” Henry pleads from somewhere. Alex can’t see him––his eyes are still closed. “Look at me. Please.”

Alex opens one eye and looks at him. He looks…sad. Disappointed, maybe. Alex feels tears sting his eyes.

The corner of Henry’s mouth goes up and he uses his thumb to wipe away Alex’s tears. “Alex, darling, why are you crying?”

Alex sniffles and rubs his eyes. “Sorry,” he laughs, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I’m just…you’re so _perfect_. And I––”

“You’re perfect, too,” Henry tells him. “You’re beautiful and amazing and if this scares you, we can stop. We don’t have to do this, you know. If you’d like to wait, we can do that.”

Alex shakes his head and brings their foreheads together. “I just like you so much,” he admits. “And I’m scared I’m gonna fuck this up.”

Henry moves up and kisses his forehead. “You won’t. You _couldn’t_. I assure you.”

Alex smiles and kisses him again because––seriously––how could he not?  
They get back into the rhythm of things after a moment and Alex is still hungry for more. There’s too much clothing between them––too much space. He needs Henry naked. Now.

He starts to undo Henry’s belt but can’t manage to get it undone without looking down at it. Eager to keep kissing Henry, he makes quick work of it and tosses it aside. It lands somewhere that they’ll worry about later. The more important thing is getting Henry’s pants off completely. Henry seems to agree with that because he helps Alex get them off in a timely fashion and onto the floor. He’s still in his underwear, though, which won’t do at all for all of the things that Alex has in mind. Starting with kissing Henry’s fucking _thighs_. He never even thought of himself as a leg man, but here he is. Henry’s legs are _doing_ things to him. Things he needs to sort out immediately.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Henry asks as Alex moves down his body to hook his fingers into the waistband of Henry’s underwear.

Alex looks up at him with a smirk. “Oh, just thinking about where I want to start,” he tells him. “I think…” he leans down and bites Henry’s thigh right below the end of his underwear. “Here.”

Henry writhes beneath him and takes his bottom lip between his teeth. In one swift motion, Alex yanks Henry’s underwear down and slides it off his legs. He’s met with the sight of Henry’s long, thick cock, already dripping with precome. It has to be the most beautiful dick he’s ever fucking seen. Seriously, what the flying fuck. How is Henry real? How is his dick so pretty? Pretty is a word that Alex never thought he’d use to describe someone’s penis, but here he is. And here’s Henry cock: sitting there all gorgeous and eager and…fuck, Alex isn’t going to last much longer at this rate. That’s fine, though. He wants to worship Henry tonight.

There’s a freckle at the crux where his pelvis meets his thigh and Alex treats it like a target––instantly taking the spot into his mouth and marking it. Henry gasps and his hips buck at the touch. Alex feels proud of himself for managing to elicit such a response. He presses another open-mouthed kiss to the spot, sucking at the skin there just to see how Henry responds beneath him. The response is good––Henry moans, louder this time, and arches his back off the mattress. He was half-hard before, but now he’s fully erect and Alex is living for it. And as much as he enjoys this spot on Henry’s leg, he knows he’ll enjoy putting Henry’s beautiful, god-like cock between his lips even more. So he does.

“ _Christ_ ,” Henry gasps as Alex takes the whole thing in one go. Well, most of it, anyway. It’s so fucking big that it makes him feel ill to even think about getting it all the way in.

Alex smirks with his lips around Henry’s cock and drags his tongue up the length of him, taking his time and savoring the feeling. Henry is a mess––panting and writhing and moaning. His face is flushed and pink and glorious and his lip is between his teeth and his eyes are squeezed shut and turned against the pillow like he’s too over-simulated to utilize all of his senses. He looks so fucking beautiful like this––Alex can hardly stand it.

He keeps going for another minute or so, using all the tips and tricks he’s picked up over the years and seeing what Henry responds to. There’s already a list in his head of things Henry likes: Alex’s tongue, attention to the crown, and especially when Alex decides to turn his attention to Henry’s balls. Henry really likes it when Alex does the last thing.

It compels him to work his fingers through Alex’s hair and moan, “Oh, God, _yes_.”

So, naturally, Alex does it some more while working Henry’s shaft with his hand.

“Stop, stop,” Henry begs from above him, tugging Alex’s hair just hard enough to pull him away from the task at hand.

Alex peers up at him. “What? Not good?” He’ll be very confused if Henry didn’t like it. From the sounds of it, Henry was _really_ enjoying himself. Alex may not be confident about his body, comparatively, but he knows his way around a dick. He’s made men come in remarkably short amounts of time. Seriously, he might hold the fucking world record at this point.

“No,” Henry assures him, “very good. _Too_ good. I want…I don’t want to come yet.”

He cocks an eyebrow at Henry for a moment, confused. Isn’t getting off exactly what they’re doing here? But then he realizes that Henry means…

“Oh,” he says, like a perfect idiot.

Henry looks shy and sheepish and nervous so Alex surges up and kisses him deeply. Henry melts instantly and wraps his arms around Alex, holding him in place. It’s not like Alex wants to move anyway, so he’s very content to kiss Henry for a moment before bringing their foreheads together.

“Are you sure, baby?”

And, oh _God_ , Henry _shivers_ at the name. “Yes. Christ, yes. I…I’ve wanted you since I first saw you.”

Alex freezes, unsure what that means. He’s never… “Oh. I’ve never…uh, I’m always––”

Henry rolls his eyes but Alex knows that there’s no malice in it. “I want you,” Henry whispers, bringing Alex’s lips closer to his own, “to have your way with me.”

Alex swallows nervously. Wow, that’s fucking sexy. He says as much. “That’s so fucking hot,” he says. And he kisses him again.

As they kiss, Alex lowers Henry onto his back, pressing him against the mattress and grinding his hips down onto him, just for the hint of release. It makes them both moan and buck their hips, desperate for more. Alex, still kissing him, gropes around until his hand lands on his nightstand where he fumbles around for a moment before finding the knob to the drawer. He pulls it open and quickly finds the only two things inside: lube and condoms. He has to pull away to put the condom on, but Henry doesn’t seem upset with the loss of contact. Instead, he spreads his legs.

“I, uh, prepped,” Henry tells him, “before I came here.”

Alex chuckles as he discards the wrapper. “Of course you did.”

Still, Alex won’t be denied the pleasure of drawing more moans out of Henry. So he moves down and plants a kiss to that freckle, just to say hello, before moving down. And, wow. If he thought Henry was putty beneath him before, he was certainly not prepared for this. The second his tongue is on Henry’s hole, Henry moans. It has to be the loudest moan that Alex has heard from him yet.

“Please,” he begs, wiggling and bucking his hips, “ _please_ just fuck me.”

Well, Alex doesn’t have to be told twice.

He lines himself up, not even mentioning the fact that Henry is still facing him and that this might hurt a bit, and pushes himself inside. Once he pushes himself in all the way, he sees Henry relax into it, his entire body melting like it’s coming home after a long day. It makes Alex’s heart clench and his stomach swirl with so much affection that he thinks he might burst. Of all of the times he’s done this sort of thing, this is the best. The other times were good, of course, but they weren’t good like Henry. Henry is his own special breed. Alex knows that, even after just this taste, he’ll be hopelessly addicted.

He starts moving and Henry sighs in delight before that sigh turns into a moan. After a few thrusts, both of them so worked up from the long build and weeks of sexual tension, they’re both close. Alex reaches a hand down to stroke Henry’s cock, coaxing him to join Alex at the finish line. Alex mumbles a string of incoherent nonsense, some of which he’s pretty sure are “fucker” and “sweetheart” and, quite possibly, “hijo de puta.”

They come together in a mess of swears and moaning each other’s names before collapsing into the bed like the pair of useless, boneless morons they are. Alex makes himself comfortable by wrapping himself around Henry like a touch-starved koala, not daring to move a single inch. He rests his head on Henry’s chest and draws senseless patterns on the beautiful, taut skin there.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mumbles sleepily, “that was the best sex I’ve ever had. I don’t think I’ll be able to move for a fucking week.”

Henry chuckles that deep chuckle that makes Alex’s body break out in goosebumps. “Oh, _you’re_ one to talk.”

Alex slaps his chest playfully before nestling himself against Henry even more. “Shut up. You told me to have my way with you.”

He feels Henry press a kiss into his hair. “That I did. And I quite enjoyed it.”

Alex hums in agreement. “I really, _really_ fucking like you,” he whispers after a moment.

Henry’s arms wrap around him and give him a reaffirming squeeze. “I really, _really_ like you, too.”

Alex beams and goes to sleep feeling more content than he has in years.


	11. Safe In My Arms

Maybe it’s a _tad_ dramatic for Alex to think that Henry hates him now, for some reason, but he can’t really help it. After that wonderful night together––and many more wonderful nights––Alex felt pretty good about their relationship. Sex hadn’t ruined things between them. If anything, it made them more obsessed with each other than they were before. Instead of cute cuddles and lazy make-out sessions when on break, they started trying to get each other off as quickly as possible. If they had a particularly long stretch of time and an ample amount of privacy, they had sex in Henry’s room or, one time, in the gender-neutral bathroom. That was a particularly precarious situation given the fact that everyone was on the same lunch break and at least two people tried to enter, knocked profusely, then gave up entirely. They still weren’t out on set, though. Alex was more than fine with it considering the fact that his career hinged on him staying firmly in the closet for the time being, but he could tell that it was getting to Henry. There was something morose––more morose than usual––that came over him whenever Alex clapped him on the back or gave him a fist bump to try and make the idea that they were friends (certainly not lovers) more believable. It saddened him to see such a sight, but there was nothing he could do to change anything. As much as he liked Henry––as much as he was growing to love Henry––he knew that his career came first. For now, anyway. Maybe in the future, once he had gotten a few more lead roles, things could be different. He could hire another agent. Maybe Richards would die. (He _is_ on the older side. And smokes like a chimney. And lives off of Coke Zero and cashews.)

Though Alex had noted these dark moods that sometimes overcame Henry in the weeks that followed their first night together, he never thought that they would grow this big. It all started yesterday when Henry came into work with a frown on his face that not even Alex’s lips could help turn into a smile. And now, twenty-four hours later, Henry is still moping around the set like he’s just been told the world is going to end. There’s a semi-frantic nature to him, too. He’s taken up pacing back and forth between takes instead of sitting and watching intently. So Alex can’t help but feel that Henry’s just working up the nerve to break up with him or something.

And it’s driving him absolutely insane.

He decides to do something about it after they wrap for the day since he and Henry usually get dinner together before crashing at Alex’s apartment. Henry practically lives there now. He says it feels more homely than his own. Alex really doesn’t mind it.

“We still on for dinner?” Alex asks, jogging up to him.

Henry’s staring down at his phone like it’s covered in something horrible. Alex tries to sneak a peek––maybe Henry’s cheating on him––but Henry quickly turns the phone off and shoves it into his pocket.

“Hm?”

Alex rolls his eyes. “Sweetheart,” he begins, knowing that the name will make Henry blush. Only it doesn’t. He frowns and moves closer. “Is everything okay? You seem…anxious.”

Henry furrows his brow and takes a step back. “What? No. I’m fine.” He tries to walk away but Alex steps in front of him, blocking the entrance to the door to his room. Henry rolls his eyes and folds his arms across his chest. “I’m _fine_.”

“You don’t look fine,” Alex argues. “You look miserable. You have for at least a day now.”

“It’s nothing.”

Henry tries to push past him but Alex presses himself up against the doorknob, not allowing him to go inside.

“Alex, honestly. You’re acting like a child. If I say I’m fine, I’m fine. Can’t we just drop this?”

“Nope,” he replies, popping the P for dramatic effect. He is an actor, after all. “You’re going to tell me what’s wrong and then I’ll kiss it better.”

Henry scoffs. “What, here? Where anyone could see?”

All playfulness leaves Alex’s system immediately. His heart sinks into his stomach. “Is that why you’re so upset?” he whispers, feeling terribly guilty. Even though they’d had this conversation and Henry seemed to understand where Alex was coming from, the thought that Henry’s been lying to him all this time breaks his heart. If Henry wasn’t actually okay with keeping this between them and their friends, why didn’t he say anything? Alex knew it _bugged_ him, but he never thought it would actually make him so upset. Fuck, what can he even do? What can he say? There’s nothing that will make this better.

Henry’s sullen expression softens. “Christ, I’m sorry. That was––that’s not why I’m upset. I swear it. I’m just all out of sorts right now.”

Deciding to take his word for it, Alex tries to shake the feeling off. “Then talk to me, H. I want to help you. I’m your…” he lowers his voice, “I’m your _boyfriend_ , right? It’s my job to make you feel better. Lay it on me.”

Henry stares at him for a moment then sighs in defeat. “Fine, if you insist. Let’s go inside to discuss this, though, shall we?”

Alex agrees, but only because he’s the one with the power to open the knob. If he goes in first, Henry can’t lock him out. Thankfully, Henry seems to actually want to talk about it because he follows Alex inside, shuts the door, and sits down on the couch without even trying to force Alex out of the room. Alex pulls the chair from the desk over and sits down across from Henry, taking Henry’s hands in his own and giving them a reassuring squeeze.

“I’ve just found out that my family is coming for a ‘surprise visit,’” he explains.

And… _wow_. Okay. So, Henry’s never really talked about his family. Alex knows a little bit about them––mostly about how his grandmother is an old-fashioned bitch––but not nearly enough to get a good sense of the family dynamics. He knows that Henry has a sister named Bea whom he seems to like enough to text and call pretty frequently, and he knows that Henry’s dad is a fucking legend but is also unfortunately dead, but that’s about it. If Alex’s family came to visit, he’d be elated because he misses his parents a lot, even if they’re prone to stupid outbursts and arguments. But Henry’s cadence makes Alex feel like the fact that his family is coming is very, very bad. Alex wants to wrap his arms around him and protect him from everything that’s ever hurt him.

“And, well, I’ve told Bea about us––I do hope that’s all right––”

Alex nods.

“And she wants to meet you. But the problem is that my entire family is coming because my brother’s getting some silly award for something he probably didn’t do and I haven’t got a _clue_ about how to deal with him. Everything I’ve built here––my career, my home, my relationships, _you_ ––has been a dream come true for me. I’m so afraid that they’ll come storming into my life and make an absolute mess of everything. That they might tear my world apart.” He hands his head and Alex feels his heart squeeze in his chest.

This is a different Henry than the one he knows. Sure, Henry’s always been prone to a bit of sadness, but never like this. Never anything like this. Alex has no idea what to do or say to make this any better. It hurts him to see Henry so defeated and broken.

“What can I do?” he asks, hoping that Henry will guide him in the right direction.

Henry looks up at him but doesn’t say anything.

“Do you want me to be there? To be far away? What’ll make this better for you?”

Henry smiles a weak, pathetic smile and rubs circles onto the back of Alex’s hands. “I want them to know that I’m capable of being with someone,” he says. It’s so soft and hoarse that it nearly breaks Alex’s heart to hear it. “But I would never ask you to willingly wade into this storm. My family…the things they do….it’s not _right_. Mum’s okay, I think, and Bea, but Philip and Gran are terrible. They’ll try everything they can to make you break up with me.”

Alex frowns. “Baby, you know nothing can make me break up with you,” he coos, knowing that it’s true. He can’t think of a single thing that would make him break up with Henry. Ever. It’s kind of scary to think about, but it’s also really fucking nice. Henry is his person––he knows it.

“You might,” Henry admits, “if you knew all of me.”

Alex’s breath catches in his throat. What could Henry _possibly_ mean by that? All of him? Has Alex not been granted permission to see all of him yet? He’d like to think he sees Henry––all of him––and that Henry sees him, too. There’s no part of himself that Alex has hidden from him. But, then again, Henry is a labyrinth. He’s got so many twists and turns and secrets that Alex realizes it might be impossible to ever really know him completely. It’s exciting, though. It’s fun to discover new things about him every day. So what could be so bad about all of him? All of him––that’s all Alex wants.

“What are you trying to say?”

Henry takes a deep breath and avoids Alex’s gaze. “I––after Dad died, I was a mess. More so than usual, I mean. I’ve always been a bit…melancholy, but it got so much worse after he died and Mum disappeared and Bea went round the bend. And my family is the old sort, the type that doesn’t believe in medication for things as trivial as mental illness. The sort that doesn’t believe mental illness even truly exists.”

Alex’s entire body tenses, registering where this might go.

“So they didn’t understand what was happening to me. I became more withdrawn than normal––I wouldn’t talk. I wouldn’t eat. I wouldn’t even leave my bloody room. But Pez and Bea saw what was happening and there was one night where––” he takes a shaky breath. Alex gives his hands another squeeze. “I spent some time in a facility. It was the only way they could make sure I was safe and being looked after. And my family found out, of course, an––and––”

Heavy sobs overtake his body. At first, Alex is too stunned to move. He’s never seen Henry like this before and part of his mind is telling him to run as far as he can––that he’s incapable of handling this; of being the sort of person that’s a calming, reassuring presence. But this sadness is part of Henry and…well, Alex loves him. He loves him too much to run away, no matter how inept he feels right now. So he crosses the space between them and wraps his arms around Henry’s shoulders and his legs around Henry’s waist, bringing Henry’s head down to the crook of his neck. With one hand he rubs large, soothing circles on Henry’s tense back.

“It’s okay,” Alex tells him in a low, gentle whisper. “I’ve got you, okay? I’m here and I still like you and I still want you and I’m not going anywhere.”

Henry sniffles, a sure sign that his sobbing is receding. Alex doesn’t dare move an inch, though. He keeps Henry right here where he’s safe. Where he can protect him from everything.

“You’re so strong and so beautiful,” Alex says, moving his other hand to thread his fingers through Henry’s hair. “I know that must have been hard to tell me, but I’m so glad you did, sweetheart. And that time of your life doesn’t define you and it doesn’t change anything for me. You’re still handsome and talented and amazing and I am so so lucky to call you my boyfriend.”

Henry moves his head away from the crook of Alex’s neck and plants a sweet kiss on his lips. “I’m sorry,” he says.

Alex shakes his head. “Don’t you fucking dare,” Alex said, pressing their foreheads together. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“I should have told you before we got serious.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, H. It’s so personal and I would have hated it if you felt pressured to tell me, okay? I’m just happy you did. I––You’re the bravest person I know.”

Henry chuckles half-heartedly at that. “I don’t _feel_ brave.”

“Well you are,” Alex insists. “The fucking bravest, okay? I wouldn’t lie to you, baby.”

Henry kisses him again like he has no words to describe what he’s feeling.

They sit like that for a moment, pressed against each other in silence. Alex feels content here, though. Safe and loved and capable. He may not be historically great at comforting people, but he’s starting to know Henry like the back of his hand. He can read his moods and chart them now. And this addition to it all––this new piece of the puzzle––finally slots into space. Everything about him seems clearer now: how he’s afraid of getting close to people, how he feels like he’s not enough (even though he is), how he loves so much more than Alex ever thought anyone _could_ love. He’s been broken and battered but he always gets up again and tries to make the world better––tries to write stories to help people understand themselves because no one ever helped him. And Alex _stupid_ loves him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you thinking that this is it? The climax? Easy going from here on out? That nothing could possibly get sadder than this? 
> 
> Well, you're wrong. Stay tuned! :)


	12. The British Are Coming!

Henry is a nervous mess. His family is on their way to his apartment from the airport and he and Alex are setting everything up for a nice dinner for all of them. Alex cooked what Henry said was a “traditional Sunday roast” for them which took a good chunk of his day since he accidentally, somehow, set the peas on fire. The food’s all done and ready now and Henry’s picking out a nice wine pairing to go with the meal while setting the table with fancy tablecloths and real, fabric napkins. It’s the first time Alex has been in Henry’s apartment and, well, he’s not sure how he feels about it. It’s pretty large, especially for L.A., with a balcony and big windows. There’s not much inside, though––just the essentials. It feels like, despite Henry having his own space, he doesn’t feel comfortable really putting personal touches anywhere. Alex gets why they never come here. It’s practical––not comfortable.

“Christ,” Henry mumbles from the table. Alex is headed that way anyway so he can set the dishes of the steaming food down.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, setting the Yorkshire pudding in the center of the table. It physically pained him to make it. What kind of person wants to eat something that has literally no flavor?

“I can’t get this bloody wine open,” Henry complains, fiddling with the cork unsuccessfully.

Alex goes up behind him, wrapping his arms around Henry and setting his hands down on top of Henry’s. “Baby, your hands are shaking.”

“I’m just so _nervous_.”

Alex spins him around so they’re facing each other, his hands finding Henry’s hips. “I can just be your friend or coworker or whatever. Or I can leave if you want.”

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Henry smiles, kissing his nose.

Alex chuckles and pulls Henry in for a hug, knowing that it will calm him if only a little. “I’m here for you, okay? No matter what happens tonight.”

“I––”

A buzzing noise interrupts whatever Henry was about to say. Henry’s eyes widen as he looks to the intercom system nervously. Alex rolls his eyes and trudges over to it, holding down the button to unlock the front door and let Henry’s family inside. As soon as that’s done, he goes back to Henry and kisses his forehead.

“Deep breaths, okay? You’ll be fine. Worst comes to worst, we can bail and go have mind-blowing sex back at my place.”

Henry scoffs and swats him gently. “You’re a _menace_.”

Alex grins and hurries to bring the last of the food over before Henry’s family can make it up the stairs. He’s not sure how many people to expect, so he’s a bit surprised when Henry opens the door and reveals three people.

“Henry!” the girl, Bea, probably, yells before throwing her arms around Henry, engulfing him in a massive hug. At first, Henry seems a bit tentative, but he quickly melts into the embrace and hugs her back fiercely.

As soon as they let go of each other, an older woman––who Alex assumes his probably Henry’s mom––hugs him while the man, Philip, probably, steps into the apartment without even saying anything. Alex could have sworn that Henry mentioned something about a crotchety old grandmother. Where is she?

Bea sees Alex and smiles before hugging him, too.

“You must be Alexander,” she says once she’s pulled away.

Alex tugs at his hair nervously. “Uh, yeah. You can call me Alex, though.”

“Henry’s told me all about you,” she gushes, “and you’re just as handsome as he said you were.”

Alex feels his face go warm. It’s sweet that Henry talks about him so openly with his sister.

Henry coughs and moves over towards them, moving Bea away from Alex a bit. “Beatrice,” he warns. There’s no malice in his tone, though. If anything, he just seems embarrassed that Alex found out how much he’s talked to his sister about him.

“Alex, hello,” Henry’s mom says, reaching out a hand. He shakes it. “I’m Catherine, Henry’s mum.”

“I’m Alex,” he replies, “Henry’s boyfriend.”

Catherine smiles at him. “That’s so wonderful. I hope he hasn’t been too much of a hassle.”

Henry groans. “Mum.”

“He is a bit of a drama queen,” Alex chuckles.

“I am most certainly not!” Henry argues.

Catherine and Bea giggle, clearly elated to see that Henry is happy. Philip still hasn’t said a word, though.

“Pip, say hello to Henry and Alex,” Bea says, trudging over to Philip and guiding him forward.

He looks incredibly awkward and uncomfortable. After what Henry told him in preparation for this, Alex is kind of glad to see him out of his element. He seems like a jerk. “Hello, Henry. Nice, er, flat you’ve got here.”

Bea rolls her eyes. “And say hello to Alex, too.”

He glares at her for a moment. “Hello, Alex. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Alex says, planting the biggest fake smile on his face. It’s a good thing he’s an actor.

As soon as Philip’s back is turned, Alex finds Henry’s gaze and fake vomits, gesturing to Philip. It brings a slight smile to Henry’s face but not much more. Still, though, it seems like a win considering these circumstances.

“And where’s Gran?” Henry asks now that the pleasantries are out of the way.

Bea and Catherine share a nervous look. “She didn’t want to put you through too much trouble,” Catherine says. Alex knows that it’s a lie and knows that, given what he’s heard about Henry’s grandmother, it was probably more the whole boyfriend situation that made her seek other accommodations. Even though this isn’t Alex’s family, it pisses him off.

“Oh, I see,” Henry says, clearly picking up that it’s a kind lie.

Bea smiles weakly and tugs on her suitcase. “So, care to show us where we’ll be staying?”

Henry nods and takes both Bea’s and Catherine’s bags, showing them to the bedroom. Henry spent an hour debating what to do with everyone, assuming that his grandmother would be here as well. Alex nearly punched him for going on and on for such a long time about possible sleeping arrangements––Henry had even drawn little charts to visualize it. Even though it was annoying to sit through, it made Alex smile because Henry is _his_ handsome ball of stress. So, of course, he had kissed Henry to make him shut up. It was very effective.

Henry takes the girls back to his room, having decided that he’ll stay at Alex’s place while they’re here so they don’t feel like they’re stepping on his toes. It’ll be better for everyone, anyway. Alex knows just how to destress his boyfriend and it would be a lot better if they didn’t have to worry about anyone barging into the room during it.

“So,” Philip says.

Honestly, Alex had forgotten he was here. He turns and sees Philip eyeing the food like it’s poisoned.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” he asks.

Alex raises an eyebrow. “What, the apartment?”

Philip chuckles. “No. You and Henry. _Dating_.” The last word is full of such disdain and venom that it makes Alex’s fists clench automatically by his sides.

“Yeah, your brother’s amazing––he’s talented and smart an––”

“I suppose,” Philip sighs, turning away from the food, “if you look past the fact that he’s…what’s the nice way to say it? Mentally ill?”

Alex grits his teeth and takes in a sharp breath. “Excuse me?”

“What, has he not told you?”

“He’s told me everything,” Alex says, trying to keep his voice as cool as possible. “Though I think he was being gracious when he called you a dick. I think I could think of a lot more colorful language.”

Philip raises a dainty eyebrow at him. Alex wants to rip it off his face. “Oh, and what might you call me?”

Alex opens his mouth, ready and eager to tell Philip how he really feels, but then he sees that fucking smirk on Philip’s stupid face and he knows that he can’t say anything. Losing his temper is exactly what Philip wants him to do. He wants a reason to tell everyone that Alex is no good––to try and get Henry to break up with him if he can’t make Alex do it first. Well, fuck that. Alex can play nice––he can control himself in front of this prick and just tell Henry about it all later and they can laugh at how stupid this is and how annoying Philip is.

Instead, he lets his fists relax and he closes his eyes for a moment and focuses on his breathing. “For what it’s worth, you brother is the most talented, creative, smart, brave, and loving person I know, okay?”

Someone “awws” from behind him. He turns and sees Bea, Catherine, and Henry all standing by the hallway, clearly having heard every word that Alex just said. Henry’s face has gone all pink and he won’t meet Alex’s eyes, so Alex isn’t sure if he’s done something very right or very wrong.

“Philip, could you please just play nice for an evening?” Catherine begs.

He huffs and sits down at the table, looking rejected and offended. Alex feels kind of smug about it.

“Candles,” Henry says, randomly.

Alex raises an eyebrow at him.

“Candles would be, erm, nice, don’t you think? Alex, could you come help me fetch some?”

Shrugging, Alex follows Henry down the hall and to the small linen closet by the bathroom. He goes to open the door, thinking that they’re going to just grab some candles, but Henry shoves him up against it and, in one swift motion, turns him around and kisses him deeply. Though Alex wasn’t expecting it, he’s certainly not objecting to it. He melts into the kiss, letting his hands go firmly around Henry’s ass, giving it a squeeze. Henry moans against him and slots a leg between Alex’s to give them both just a tease. They both moan at the friction before Henry pulls away with his hands still firmly around Alex’s face.

“What was that for?” Alex asks, breathless.

Henry brushes an offending hair off of Alex’s forehead. “Because I thought I might die if I didn’t kiss you after hearing what you told my arsehole of a brother.”

Alex smiles and brings their foreheads together, eager to get as close to Henry as he can. “Is it even more of a turn on if I tell you that I told him the word ‘dick’ wasn’t colorful enough to describe him?”

Henry kisses him again. “You’re a menace."

Alex grins. “So, baby, you think you can handle this dinner?”

Henry sighs and takes one of Alex’s hands in his own, locking their fingers together. “I don’t know. You might have to hold me back from lunging at him.”

“You’ll be _fine_ ,” Alex assures him. “And I’ll be there the whole time, okay? And when this dinner is over and I’ve made your family love me, we’re going to go back to my place and I’m gonna give you, like, the best orgasm of your life. Maybe even two if you play your cards right.”

Henry groans but kisses his forehead, wrapping him up in a hug. “Thank you,” he whispers in Alex’s ear. “For everything.”

When they go back to eat dinner, the first thing they realize is that they totally forgot to actually get the fucking candles. As they sit down, Bea just smirks at them.


	13. Tomorrow, Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uh oh spaghettios

The dinner was a turning point for them. They spent practically every moment they could together––sometimes with friends but more often alone. They had finished filming The Waterloo Letters so they had more free time since they were both in-between projects. Alex had a few offers come through that he was sorting through and trying to work out which ones he could do and when (though he said a hard “no” to the one in New York City that Richards told him about), and Henry was busy writing the next season in hopes that it would be renewed. While they waited for everything to be put together and approved, they were both in L.A.. June was back and forth between her home in L.A. and a new gig in San Francisco for some documentary series on influential women that she was co-producing, but she was around enough. So things were good with them. _Really_ good.

Alex even started experimenting with being a bit more out––like that one time he kissed Henry at a restaurant. Henry had been nervous that someone saw them and that Alex’s career would get caught in the cross-hairs, but it was a dark spot and they were in the back corner so Alex had just laughed and kissed him again. That was yesterday. Today they’re at Alex’s place, snuggled up and halfway through their _Star Wars_ marathon and already on their second bottle of wine.

Alex’s head is resting on Henry’s chest as Henry cards his fingers through Alex’s curls and Alex can’t help but smile when he looks up at his boyfriend. It still amazes him, sometimes, that they’re dating. It surprises him that Henry––a sexy, smart, British, wicked talented man––would ever want to settle for someone like Alex, but it works. They work well together like two things that were always made to go hand-in-hand. And it might be crazy, but Alex swears that Henry’s the one. He can’t picture his life without Henry taking up space somewhere either in his apartment or his mind. It feels empty when Henry isn’t here with him and when Alex is forced to sleep in his bed alone. As he looks up at Henry, he realizes that it’s stupid for them to live apart since Henry hates his own apartment and they’re ridiculously in love.

Well, _Alex_ is in love. He hasn’t exactly told Henry how he feels yet.

“Can we talk for a sec?” Alex asks.

Henry nods and reaches onto the coffee table to pause the movie before looking down at Alex to show him that he now has his complete and undivided attention.

Alex sits up and feels Henry’s eyes follow him. Fuck, he’s nervous. “We’re good, right? Like our relationship is good?”

Henry nods, obviously a bit concerned as to where this might be going.

Alex takes a deep breath and takes one of Henry’s hands in his own. “I want to tell you something, okay? But don’t freak out.”

Henry laughs nervously. “You can tell me anything, love.”

The pet name helps––it makes Alex feel pretty sure that Henry feels the same way. “Henry, I lo––”

His phone starts ringing. He’s got it on Do Not Disturb but there are a few callers set to ring through––his mom, his dad, June, Nora, Henry, and Richards. It’s not Henry, obviously, but it must be important if it’s one of the others because it’s so late. He groans and slides the phone out of his pocket, praying that it’s not June or Nora with something random to say. The caller ID shows that it’s Richards. He groans again and turns apologetically to Henry.

“I have to take this but I’ll be right back, okay?”

Henry nods as Alex gets up and heads to his room, shutting the door behind him. He takes a deep breath, answers the call, and holds it to his ear.

“What were you _thinking_?” Richards’ voice booms on the other end, obviously furious about something.

Alex sighs, really not in the mood to deal with this right now. “What happened?”

“You and the _writer_?”

All color drains from Alex’s face and he swears his heart stops being for a moment. Fuck. Fucking _shit_. He bites his lip, trying to stop the tears from forming in his eyes. This has to be it––Richards is going to fire him now. He’ll never work again, he’ll never be able to act or pay rent. His whole life is flashing before his eyes––how was he so stupid? How did Richards find out?

“We’re…friends,” Alex tries, knowing that it sounds fucking lame.

Richards snorts. “Don’t play that bullshit with me, Alex. I’ve got a reporter sending me _pictures_ of the two of you at some romantic restaurant kissing like you’re in fucking high school.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Alex groans, sinking to the ground, his knees pulled up to his chest. The room is spinning––he feels like he can’t get air. There’s no bouncing back from this.

“Luckily for you,” Richards says, “I’m a great agent and manager. I’m paying him off and taking it out of your next paycheck.”

Well, that seems fair. But is he still going to fire Alex? He’s just waiting to hear those words.

“But you need to take that job in New York and get as far away from _him_ as possible.” _Him_. He says it like the word is poisonous––like Alex is a traitor and a fool for going out with a _him_ instead of a _her_. It makes his blood boil a bit, but he knows that he can’t get too mad because he’s the one that fucked this all up. He shouldn’t have kissed Henry in that restaurant––he should have restricted their relationship to the confines of his apartment where no one could see them.

“I’m not going to New York,” he says. “I––I love him, okay? I’m not just gonna leave him. It’s the twenty-first century, Richards. Plenty of actors are gay.”

“None of _my_ actors are,” Richards says. And, well, it’s true. “You’re breaking up with him.”

“Wh––”

“Do I need to threaten you? Is that how this is going to go? Fine. You need to break up with him and move to New York or I’m going to have to spin this in your favor. And, trust me, it’ll hurt him a lot more than it’ll hurt you.”

“What would you even say?” Alex asks. Maybe, if it’s not that bad, he can discuss it with Henry. Maybe Henry would take a bit of brunt of this for him.

“That he’s insane,” Richards says. “I’ve got records that prove he was in an institution. I’ll have to say that he manipulated you. That he’s unstable.”

Alex hangs his head. The tears are flowing now––there’s nothing he can do to stop them. There are a lot of things he would do to keep his career intact here in L.A. but he would never let anyone hurt Henry. Not like this. Not when it’s true and evil and when it would tear Henry’s world apart piece by piece. It’s his most private secret––the darkest time of his life. To have all of that out there for the tabloids to have a field day with would break Henry beyond repair. There’s no way Alex will let it happen. He’ll sacrifice his own happiness a million times over to keep this quiet and to keep Henry safe.

“I need some time,” he says, trying to hide the sounds of his tears and wobbly voice.

It doesn’t work, though. “Are you _crying_?”

It only makes him cry harder to hear that. He shakes his head even though Richards can’t even see him. “ _Please_.”

Richards sighs. “You have a week to be in New York.”

“But––”

Dial tone.

Richards hung up on him.

“Fuck!” Alex yells, throwing his phone across the room. It slams against the wall with a satisfying _thunk_. Alex buries his head in his hands and tries to control his tears––tries to stop his entire body from shaking.

Someone knocks on the door. He feels it in his spine––he’s pressed up against it.

“Alex? Are you okay? I heard shouting,” Henry says from the other side of the door.

Henry being here only makes it worse for him––only makes it harder for him to know that this is the right choice. How can anything that involves them breaking up be the _right_ choice?

“I’m fine. Can you…can you just go? Please?”

A beat of silence. “Alex, what’s––”

“ _Please_ ,” he pleads, his voice breaking as fresh tears set in. “I––I need to be alone right now, okay?”

Henry seems to disappear after that. All Alex hears is shuffling and the sound of a door closing––a sure sign that Henry has left him alone.

It’s better this way. It’s better because Henry’s safe and okay––it’s not worth it for Alex to try to salvage this situation just to be with him. If Alex ignores the request, Henry will grow two resent him for it, no matter how happy they are. The heartache and break Alex feels erupting through him right now means that this is good, right? It means that he can do this for Henry and keep him able to write and live the life he’s always planned for himself. Alex can do this. He can break-up with Henry and go to New York and keep acting while he pretends that there isn’t a big, gaping hole in his chest where Henry should be. He can keep living this hollow life, this _lie_ , because they’ll both be working and out of harm’s way.

It’s better this way, surely, because Richards knows what’s best. He’s been in the business a lot longer than Alex has, so he must know what he’s doing. If this is the way that Alex gets to keep his career and Henry gets to keep writing, so be it. Even if it breaks him down––even if it makes him feel like every cell in his body is being set aflame and torn apart.

 _For Henry_ , he’ll remind himself when he feels it catching up to him, _this is for Henry_.

For now, though, he’ll just crawl into his bed with his clothes on. He’ll just stay awake for hours thinking about everything that just happened and what it means for the future. He’ll need to plan it all out––he’ll need to do it in a way that makes Henry understand that there’s no going back.

Tomorrow, he’ll break up with Henry.

Tonight, he’ll feel the ache of that knowledge in his bones––pressing down on him until he feels like he can’t breathe anymore.


	14. Down We Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> apologies for alex being out of character here––i hope it's obvious that he's very intentionally being as dickish as possible.

It’s the worst feeling he’s ever had. It’s a gnawing in his stomach––a twisting and pulling and something heavy that sits there like a rock and makes him want to throw up. It makes his hands shake down to each knuckle; that makes his legs uneasy to stand on when he tries. All of this is probably increased due to the fact that he hardly slept last night and, when he did manage to sleep, it was in short bursts that left him feeling horrified and unsatisfied. Those capricious sleeps were filled with vivid dreams––all of Henry. The most haunting one, Alex thinks, is the one that came around five-thirty in the morning. It was Henry, naked and skinnier than Alex has ever seen him, curled into a ball, floating on top of a black ocean. But the waves weren’t waves at all––they were bony hands that kept trying to pull him underwater. And Henry just looked at him with dull eyes and said, so softly that Alex almost didn’t hear it; “it’s your fault.”

Needless to say, Alex stopped trying to sleep after that.

Now he’s supposed to see Henry, probably, at some point today. It’s hard for him to get dressed but he manages it, somehow, in a total of thirty minutes. They usually text each other when they wake up, just to say good morning even though they have nothing new to say, but Henry hasn’t texted him. It’s almost eleven and he knows that Henry’s awake because he, like Alex, hardly sleeps. He really only sleeps when he’s here in Alex’s apartment. Of course, Alex was the one that chased him away last night. And Alex is the one that’s going to break-up with him today, and it’s all just shit and he feels terrible and he really might throw up soon.

He decides to call Henry, just to see what’s going on and if he’s okay. Maybe it’s sending mixed signals, but he’s losing his mind.

Henry picks up on the third ring which is suspicious given he usually picks up as soon as he sees Alex’s name flash up on his screen.

“Hey, baby,” Alex says, trying not to sound nervous.

There’s a long pause. “Hi,” he says, sounding smaller than Alex has ever heard him.

It makes Alex feel like the worst human in the world and he hasn’t even really done anything yet. “Uh, how are you?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“I’m fine,” Alex says automatically.

Henry scoffs. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Alex decides to ignore that–––tries to salvage this. “Do you want to get, uh, food or something?”

“Your place?”

It makes sense that he would ask that––it’s where they usually go since public outings are always iffy. If Henry comes over, though, Alex won’t be able to do it. He won’t be able to look at Henry in the one place he feels truly comfortable and tell him that he can’t come back again and that it’s over between them. Alex will kiss him in greeting––a long kiss that he’ll be able to hold onto for the days (weeks, years) to come. Then they’ll sit down and Alex will just…he’ll just break both of their hearts, won’t he? There’s no way to do this in a way that protects Henry at all. Except, maybe, if he can get Henry to break up with _him_.

He’s trying to formulate a plan in his mind. “Uh, how about that little café? You know, the one by the studio?”

“Sure. Uh, meet in two hours? There’s some stuff I gotta do first.”

“Okay, see you then.”

Alex hangs up and immediately calls Nora, explaining the situation. She tries to talk him out of it––tells him that it’s not okay for Richards to manipulate him like this, but she doesn’t get it. She doesn’t know what Richards could do. If Alex doesn’t obey him, he can ruin Alex’s life or Henry’s life with a snap of his fingers. So he argues with her; he tells her that moving to New York is something that he really wants to do. She’s hesitant, of course, but she relents and does this for him because they’re friends and they go way back.

So by the time he goes to meet Henry, the wheels have been set in motion. Henry is sure to be furious with him for this. Hopefully furious enough to end things with him. It’ll hurt to see that he’s caused Henry pain, but maybe Henry will feel like he’s getting out of a bad relationship. Maybe Henry won’t feel this ache that Alex feels right now.

Alex beats him there and gets a table in the back for the two of them, away from prying eyes. The café is pretty empty at the moment anyway, so they don’t really need to worry about paparazzi. As soon as Henry comes in, Alex can tell that it’s work. He’s fuming.

“I just got off the phone with Pez,” he says, sliding into the seat across from Alex.

“Oh, how is he?”

Henry glares at him. “He told me something very interesting. Normally I’m not one to give in to rumors, but…Alex, are you moving to New York?”

Alex tries his best to play it cool––to be the kind of dick that Henry can’t even stand to look at. “Oh, yeah. Moving in a few days, actually.”

Henry stares at him, baffled. “Were you planning on telling _me_ , your bloody boyfriend?”

Alex looks around at the empty café and leans across the table, lowering his voice. “Don’t say that so loud,” he whisper-shouts. “People might hear you and think we’re together.”

Henry’s turning red. “We are together, you dick. We’re––We––So you’re just _moving_ to New York? Do you want me to come with you? Do you want to do long-distance? How is this supposed to _work_?”

Alex shrugs and leans back in his chair. “I mean, whatever.”

Henry looks like he might cry. It breaks Alex’s heart to see it, but he knows that this is how it has to be––Henry has to be the one to break up with him. Alex has to push him over the edge somehow. He has to make Henry realize that Alex is bad for him. Henry has his own problems and life to deal with––he doesn’t need Alex’s baggage on top of that.

Henry studies him for a moment, those big blue eyes searching for something Alex can’t help him find. He’s tucked it away so far down that he’s not even sure he could access it now if he wanted to. “This is because of Richards, isn’t it?”

Alex tries to laugh but it comes out flat. He clears his throat and rolls his eyes. “It’s _not_ because of Richards. Why are you so obsessed with him, anyway?”

“I’m not the one that’s obsessed with him, Alex. _You_ are. You do everything he says without batting an eye––you think your world revolves around what he wants. He shouldn’t get to control you like this. He doesn’t dictate your life.”

“Oh, because you do?”

Henry purses his lips together and sticks his chin out. “Don’t you _dare_.”

Alex knows that this is it––this is how he can push him over the edge. He’s nearly there put one more shove should get him going.

It’s funny, in a way. Alex tucked all sorts of information about Henry away ages ago. He knows how to make Henry laugh and smile and kiss him like the world might end if he doesn’t. He learned what made Henry sad and upset so he could be sure to never hurt him, but that’s exactly what he’s doing now. He’s using all of the information he stored to protect Henry in order to hurt him. And it’s fucked up and Alex feels miserable and he’ll definitely throw up from guilt when he gets home because his stomach is already in knots, but it’s something he has to do. And he knows that this is, somehow, the only way to actually protect Henry––to keep him safe and out of Richards’ way. But it feels like someone’s cutting away pieces of his heart because Henry looks more miserable than Alex has ever seen him. It’s the worst feeling––it’s worse than the worst feeling. It feels like he’s going to fall into pieces at any moment and Henry won’t be there to pick them back up again. It feels like he’s drowning in lava and the fire is burning him up from the inside out as he waits for it to just swallow him whole.

“I’m not _yours_ ,” Alex seethes. And the words are like bile in this throat and they sting and burn as they leave his mouth. Because he is Henry’s. Every single part of him. “And you don’t get to make me feel bad for not being out or for this shit with Richards.”

“I may do a lot of things I regret––things that I feel awful about later––but I have _never_ made you feel bad for not being out. _I’m_ not out––not publicly. And I’ve offered to pay for a new––”

“You can’t just _buy_ me!” Alex says, hoping it will strike a chord.

Henry’s fist clenches on the table.

“I make my own decisions, okay? And I’m deciding to go to New York and I’m deciding to keep Richards as my agent. And I’m deciding to not be out, and I’m deciding that this entire conversation is fucking ridiculous because it’s my life and you don’t get to tell me how to live it.”

Henry is silent for a moment, obviously thinking. He sighs. “Well, since it’s _your_ decision to go to New York and _your_ decision to behave this way… _I’m_ deciding that we’re over.”

Alex pushes down the tears. “Good,” he scoffs.

Henry chuckles weakly, shakes his head, and leaves.

Alex watches him as he exits––watches the way his hips move as he walks and the way he runs his fingers through his hair. He watches as Henry, now standing outside and behind the windows of the café, buries his face in his hands for a moment, takes a few deep breaths, then straightens his posture and walks away.

And as soon as Henry is out of sight, Alex is sobbing.


	15. An Unexpected Visitor

The move to New York isn’t seamless. In fact, it makes Alex miserable. He’s keeping the apartment in L.A., subletting it while he’s gone to some mysterious bidder that paid him a lot of money for it. Richards has him set up in a small studio apartment in New York that’s fully furnished and dreadful. New York is colder than he’s used to––it’s lonely and dark and he misses the sun and his friends. He misses Henry more than anything, but he knows he can’t text or call him. It would hurt too much, he thinks, to try and be friends or something now. He’s so in love that each day without Henry tears him down a bit more until he feels like a blob just floating through life.

He doesn’t eat much anymore.

Or sleep.

Or talk.

He’s probably doing a shitty job with this play Richards has him in, but he can’t bring himself to care much because nothing feels _real_ anymore. He’s in decay––he’s giving up. But Henry’s okay and his secrets are staying secret like they’re supposed to. So it’s all okay in a way because even though Alex is more miserable than he’s ever been, he knows that Henry is in L.A. in impersonal bedrooms but _safe_. And that’s all that matters to him.

June and Nora call him a lot to check-in, but it’s hard to bring himself to talk to them for long. He gives them vague answers and lies to their endless stream questions––he’s fine, he’s eating, he’s sleeping, work’s fun.

It’s been two weeks of this hell and Alex is close to his breaking point. He’s not okay (how could he be) but it’s fine. It’s how it’s supposed to be, right? If he’s miserable, that means he’s doing the right thing. And Richards his proud of him and the play he’s working on is good and means something and that means that all of this pain will be worth it, doesn’t it?

He’s surprised when Zahra calls him some amount of time later (he’s lost track of the days now). He answers immediately.

“You haven’t RSVP’d to the premiere for _The Waterloo Letters_ ,” Zahra says instead of a greeting.

“I didn’t get an invite,” he replies.

“I sent it to your house, dumbass.”

He groans––he forgot to tell her. “I moved. I’m living in, uh, New York now, actually.”

“What about Henry?”

The name makes him feel sick––makes him itch and want to cry. He hasn’t heard someone say that name in so long now and it breaks his heart to hear those syllables spoken aloud. He’s been repeating them in his head like a mantra: _For Henry, This is for Henry, Henry is safe, Henry’s okay_. But he hasn’t heard them in so long. And it breaks him in new ways all over again.

“What about him?” he asks, unable to bring himself to say those words.

“I’m only going to say this once,” she says, “and if you repeat it to anyone I’ll have to kill you. But…I’m rooting for you two, okay?”

He can’t help but snort. “There’s no me and Henry, Zahra. And I’ll let you know about the premiere. Send the info to Richards and he’ll let you know if I can go.”

He hangs up after that, unable to say much else.

Richards doesn’t want him to go to the premiere. Not only does he not want Alex to go, but he forbids it. He tells Alex that he’ll tell the world about Henry’s mental health––about everything that Alex is fighting so desperately to keep hidden. So Alex says he can’t go. He says he’s too busy with work to get to L.A.. And it’s _fine_. He doesn’t need to be there anyway. It’s a small thing and he knows that Henry will be there because this is his project and Alex is just there for the ride. They haven’t even been secured for a second season yet––Alex might not have to work with him again. Not that Richards would let him, anyway.

He gets lunch with June one day because she’s in town for some reason or another. He doesn’t remember why. She takes one look at him––at how thin and tired he is––and knows exactly what’s going on.

“You’re miserable,” she says.

“I’m fine.”

But he can’t lie to her––not about this. So he breaks down and tells her everything because if he doesn’t get someone’s advice he knows that he’ll break down completely. And she listens to him as best she can and promises that everything will work out, even though he has no idea what she means by that. Then she goes back to California and Alex is alone and miserable and wonders if he should just tell Richards that he can’t do this anymore––that all of this isn’t fucking worth it.

One night, there’s a knock on his door. There’s no need for a doorbell here because the apartment is so small that he can hear it from every corner of the shitty place. He groans and pulls himself off the couch to answer it.

As soon as he opens it, he finds the last person he expected to see standing in front of him.

It’s _Henry_.

Beautiful Henry in the flesh and with a bag slung around his shoulder. He looks so tired and sad but Alex is so happy to see him that he forgets for a moment that they’re supposed to be broken up now and that he can’t allow himself to fall back into this. But as soon as he goes into hug him, he remembers that he can’t do this anymore––he can’t touch Henry and love him like he used to. So he wipes his eyes and gestures for Henry to come in, leading him to the small sitting area.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

Henry looks around the small space and frowns, knowing that Alex can’t be happy here. “June told me everything,” he explains.

Alex closes his eyes and sits on the ruddy sofa, leaning back against it and trying to ground himself. “What did she tell you?”

Henry sits down on the windowsill across from him, dropping his bag to the floor. “That Richards is making you do this,” he says, “and that you’re positively miserable.”

Alex sighs. There’s no point in denying it now, is there? But maybe Henry will understand––maybe he’ll see that this is the only way it can be. “I couldn’t let him hurt you.”

Henry raises an eyebrow. “So you’re letting him hurt you instead?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Alex says.

“Look at yourself,” Henry whispers, his voice breaking. “You’re not okay, Alex.”

“But you are,” Alex argues, pulling his knees up to his chest. “That’s all that matters.”

“It’s not,” Henry argues. “And if you told me about all of this, I never would have let you hurt yourself like this. I––I’m miserable without you, Alex. And I’m even more miserable knowing that I’m the cause of this and that I’m the reason you’re so unwell. But, love, you have to see that Richards isn’t _good_. He shouldn’t be able to manipulate you like this.”

“He could destroy me,” Alex says. He wants to yell it but he doesn’t have the energy. “He could destroy both of us. I’m––I’m _lucky_ he chose me. He’s one of the best. And––and I’d be nothing without him.”

Henry shakes his head and moves in front of him, crouching on the ground and reaching out for him. “You’re _everything_ ,” he assures him. And Alex almost believes it. “Even without acting, you’re smart and beautiful and kind and so many wonderful things that Richards doesn’t get to control. He’s hurting you, Alex. And I can’t force you to see how terrible he is, but…” he reaches into his pocket and produces his phone. He unlocks it, swipes through it, and shows Alex an email. “I spoke to Rafael Luna about this. I thought he might know something about what he was doing to you and…he has proof.”

Alex stares at the screen for a moment, but none of the information sits right with him. It’s an email chain––screenshots of emails between Richards and a man that Alex has never heard of before. He looks at Henry. “Proof of what?” His voice his barely even here anymore.

“Proof that Richards hired someone to stalk you and get photos of us. And proof that he blackmailed someone else to get the records of my time at that facility. It’s––it’s enough to put him on trial.”

Alex stares at him for a moment, not understanding what all of this means. The lack of sleep and food as made his brain foggy and slow. “I can’t afford that,” he says.

“But I can,” Henry says. “And I’d like to do this for you.”

Alex feels tears stinging his eyes again and he reaches out and grabs both of Henry’s hands, pulling him up a bit so they’re eye-level. He looks deep into Henry’s blue eyes––the blue that he’s missed so much, that he _dreams_ about––and squeezes Henry’s hands to make sure that he’s really here. “I’ve been horrible to you,” he whispers.

Henry shakes his head and moves closer. Alex meets him halfway and their foreheads rest together. “It’s not your fault. He was manipulating you. It’s over now, Alex. We can get him.”

Alex nods and closes his eyes, letting himself get lost in Henry’s scent and the feeling of Henry’s skin against his own after what feels like years of being apart. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be, please. I just want you to be okay.”

“I am now, I think,” Alex whispers. “Being without you…I think it was killing me.”

Henry pulls Alex against his chest, keeping him close and safe in his arms. “You’re okay now. I’ve got you.”

And that’s all it takes for Alex to wrap himself around him––to lose himself completely in Henry’s warmth. He’s crying, he thinks, but his tears get lost in Henry’s shoulder. Henry soothes him and combs through his hair and rubs circles into his back and Alex can’t believe that he’s allowed to have this again. He thought they’d had their last moment together––that their story had ended that day at the café. But, against all odds, Henry is here and holding him and Alex has his arms around him and he knows that he’ll never let Henry go again. Being without Henry nearly killed him and he won’t make the same mistake twice. So he pulls himself away and kisses Henry softly, deeply, just so Henry knows how much he’s fucking _missed_ this.

“I love you,” he tells him breathlessly.

Henry grins. “I know. And I love you, too. More than words can describe.”

Alex kisses him again.

Because he _can_.


	16. A Hollywood-Style Ending

When Alex wakes up, he expects Henry to be in the bed beside him. He reaches over with his eyes still closed to find Henry and hold him close, but the other side of the bed is empty and Henry is nowhere to be found. Alex leaps out of bed and searches the small apartment for his boyfriend but can’t find him. He’s gone and Alex is alone again. Or maybe Henry was never here and last night was just some weird hallucination his brain cooked up. He starts hyperventilating––he thinks he’s going insane. He sits on the edge of the bed and puts his head in his hands as he tries to get his breathing under control. Suddenly, there’s a hand on his back.

With a gasp, he looks and sees Henry sitting beside him. He blinks at him, wondering if he’s really here.

“Are you real?” he asks.

Henry nods and pulls him close, holding Alex firmly against his chest. “Sorry, I went for coffee and breakfast since you were still sleeping,” Henry explains, running his hands up and down Alex’s bare arms. “I called your name when I came back but you didn’t respond. Are you okay?”

Alex nods against him and pulls Henry closer even though there’s already no space between them. “I thought you were gone. Or I thought you were never even here.”

Henry plants a kiss in his messy curls. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. But you need to eat some food, so let’s move to the kitchen…erm, or the kitchen area, yeah?”

Alex lets Henry guide him over to the small kitchen table. He sits down as Henry grabs a bag and two coffees from the counter, diving up the food between them but giving Alex a much larger portion. It’s an assortment of pastries and what looks like some sort of fancy breakfast sandwich.

“Eat, love,” Henry tells him.

Alex takes a bite of the pastry––something that looks like a normal croissant but is filled with cheese and something that tastes like honey––and swallows it. It sits in his stomach like a rock. It’s been so long since he’s eaten a proper meal that it feels weird and wrong to each such decadent food. He smiles through it for Henry’s sake and takes another bite, willing his body to cooperate. He knows that he needs food––it’s been too long.

“Should we discuss, er, what your planning to do?” Henry asks, taking a sip of what Alex is sure is tea.

“I mean, I guess,” Alex sighs. “If it’s possible, I want…I want to take Richards down. But I don’t really know how to, uh, do that.”

“Right. Well, we could start by hiring a lawyer. We’ll make it a good one––the best that money can buy.”

It feels like too much––like something Alex doesn’t deserve for the way he treated Henry. “You don’t have to do that,” Alex tells him, feeling guilty.

“I insist, all right? And it’s not just for you––I’d quite like to see him get what he deserves.”

Alex smiles nervously and takes another bite of the pastry. “Right. Uh, so…I guess I need to get back to L.A.. Somehow.”

“Is there something keeping you here?”

Well, Alex doesn’t know the answer to that anymore. He’s got a part in this play, but he’s been doing a shitty job and he doesn’t exactly need to please Richards anymore, right? “I’m in a play. It’s…honestly, I’ve been so out of it recently that I don’t think they’d miss me. And I want to be with you in my apartment. I mean, I’ll have to get it back from the person that’s subletting it––why are you looking at me like that?”

Henry’s face has gone pink and he looks like he’s ashamed or embarrassed or something. “I’ve been subletting it. I haven’t been actually living there or anything, but…I knew something wasn’t quite right with how you just took off. And I thought that, on the off-chance that you’d come back and maybe want to be together…” his voice trails off and he looks down at the crappy table like he’s too ashamed to meet Alex’s wide eyes.

Maybe it’d be weird in another circumstance, but the thought of Henry wanting to keep his place clean and looked after makes Alex feel like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest. “I love you so much,” Alex tells him.

Henry looks up and smiles at him softly, his cheeks warm and pink. “I love you, too. Christ, I never thought I’d be able to tell you that. It feels so good to be able to just… _say_ it.”

Alex smiles back at him in agreement and reaches for one of his hands across the table. “I love you,” he says again, “and whatever comes next will be okay because we’ll be together. I’m not gonna fuck it up again.”

It’s a promise that he holds onto.

The trial is a long and tedious process that makes for many sleepless nights, but Henry is always there to soothe him when he wakes up in a cold sweat and unable to breathe. The unfortunate part is that the premiere comes in the middle of the trial, but Henry’s there for that, too.

On the day of the premiere, they get ready together in suits they had picked out a few weeks ago when they were out and about. There’s a whole plan behind it––Henry’s wearing a slim-cut baby blue suit with a grey tie complete with little embroidered red and yellow flowers on it. Alex is wearing a matching tie (though in baby blue) with an elegant grey suit. They match and look perfect. So perfect, in fact, that it takes them twice the time to get ready because they keep stealing glances of each other and undressing each other.

Just before they go, Henry stops him at the door. “Are you sure about this?”

And Alex doesn’t even have to think about it. “Yes. Let’s fucking do it.”

They share a limo with Pez, June, Nora, and Bea––who’s flown in for this––to the premiere. When they all get out, they pretend like they’re just a group of friends and that there’s nothing going on between Alex and Henry, but it’s still part of their plan. On the red carpet outside of the theater, they’re stopped to talk about their work on the show. Since it’s a pretty big deal––Netflix original, lots of famous actors, an amazing and well-known production team and crew––it’s a huge deal with tons of camera and microphones and its own special backdrop with the name of the show and the Netflix logo. They all get separated a bit on the carpet as they’re dragged to talk to different media outlets and channels. Honestly, Alex loves the attention he’s getting, but he knows that there’s something more important for him to do than just charm reporters. So he goes off after a quick interview with _Buzzfeed_ to find Henry. He finds him talking to a woman from _The Hollywood Reporter_.

“Oh, and here we have Alexander Claremont-Diaz, one of the stars of _The Waterloo Letters_. Alexander, care to share any fun stories from behind the scenes?”

Alex puts on his best press smile. “Call me Alex,” he beams. The woman smiles at him, obviously excited to hear what he’s about to say. “And, well, this has been my favorite project by far. We had a great team and I got to act with some old friends and my fabulous sister, June. But I think the best thing to happen behind the scenes was everything that happened with Henry,” he tells her, wrapping an arm around Henry’s waist. “It’s rare that you get to play such an amazing character in such a thoughtful and well-crafted love story, but it’s even rarer to get to live out your own epic love story on set. But that’s what this was––a love story in every way.”

The reporter grins. “Are you saying that you and Henry are together?”

Alex turns and meets Henry’s eyes––big and blue and hopeful and so full of love that Alex feels like he must burst. “Yeah, I am. And I’ve never been happier.”

The reporter turns the microphone to Henry. “Care to comment, Mr. Fox?

“It’s true; every word. I set out to write a love story, never truly having one of my own. I never quite expected to be able to have something like that in my life, but then I met Alex and, well, I finally know what it’s like to live my own love story. And I wouldn’t trade him or this opportunity for the world.”

The questions all shift to ask about the dynamics of their relationship and how they managed to remain professional on set and then, inevitably, to the very public trial of Richards and what role that plays in their lives. Alex lets Henry answer the questions about the trial, deciding to just keep an arm around him while he talks.

It’s a night of fun and drinks and, for the first time, being able to love Henry out in the open. And everyone accepts them without batting an eye. By the end of the night, Alex’s heart is full and he’s tipsy and Henry looks so fucking gorgeous that he’s practically bursting at the seams to get him home and undressed.

It’s a lot––the trial, the second season they’ve just been given the go-ahead for, being out and proud––but it’s all so good because, despite everything, Alex has Henry––his very own handsome writer––by his side. Henry’s already turning this story into a script and Alex knows that, like everything Henry does, it’s going to be fucking amazing.

And this time he knows that Henry is going to fucking love his audition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOF, it's been a ride!   
> I feel like I could have done a better job with this and there are a lot of things I'd change, but here we are!  
> Thank you for reading and commenting and being amazing. I love you all and stay tuned for more fics! Quarantine has me generating new content at what's probably an unhealthy level!


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